A Wolf At The Door
by howtodisappearcompletely
Summary: Kyle thinks he can handle it, but Stan wants to help. As Kyle's situation becomes worse it's not just money that's at stake. Rated M for later chapters. Style.
1. Chapter 1

Okay so this is my first ever fanfic. It will most likely be an atrocious and epic failure, but I had an idea I was excited about for a multi-chapter Style and thought why not finally write something myself. Please review to let me know if I have enough of a tiny hint of talent to make it worth continuing this, and any constructive criticism is always appreciated. Future chapters will probably be a bit longer than this, I'm sort of testing the water with this one.

Also, I'm English, so although I've tried to use American English and use Americanisms for the sake of realism, there may be some English sounding things in there that I missed (do you call them Englishisms? Lol). Anyway here comes the story, and like I said, please please review.

"**FINAL WARNING**"

Kyle read the angry title, written in large red font at the top of the letter. He let out a resigned sigh and placed it on the growing pile on his kitchen counter.

"Two weeks overdue!" read the next letter. That one went straight in the trash. Eventually, when the last of the mail had been sorted, Kyle slumped down onto the sagging couch; this was not how his life was meant to turn out. A college drop-out, enormous debts and constantly being harassed by banks, electricity and gas companies for overdue payments. He had gone to Harvard for Christ's sake, and was planning to be a top lawyer before he was thirty. He had forgotten completely about his selfless childhood act, to take on the debts of all of South Park in order to get them to spend again and save the economy. Halfway through his course at Harvard those debts had reached the critical point, as his parents could no longer afford to help him (they had moved into a smaller house with barely enough room for the pair of them and Ike, and Kyle refused to take a dollar more from them for his own mistake). Despite working two jobs as well as studying, Kyle simply could not keep up. He had dropped out, gone back to South Park and begun working full time in the new call centre just outside of town while juggling a job at Shakey's Pizza. Mindless, endless work for almost no pay, it wasn't far from being slave labour.

A gentle knocking forced him to snap out of his self-pity. He pulled the door open and smiled.

"hiya Kye, was just heading out for lunch, want to join? It's my treat." Kenny gave him that imploring, almost full-on puppy dog expression, that despite now being 23 and sporting unruly stubble he had never lost the ability to pull off.  
"alright...fine. Cheers Ken." It was charity, something Kyle would never normally even consider accepting, but for some reason he didn't mind taking the offer from Kenny, probably because of all the times when they were younger that it was Kyle giving Kenny the free meals. That and the fact that Kenny never took no for an answer.

They walked pretty much in silence, but the comfortable silence of good friends. Kyle ordered a plain Margarita (it was the cheapest thing on the menu and he didn't want to abuse Kenny's generosity). "and I'll have the Spaghetti Carbonara please" The blond boy grinned as their menus were lifted by the waitress. The small Italian that had sprung up not long after Kyle had left Harvard, and it was Kenny's absolute favourite place to eat, a step above Shakey's anyway. He had never left South Park, as everyone had sort of expected, but he'd got himself a job at the hardware store and had been promoted to assistant manager through sheer hard work. He was earning comfortably more than Kyle, even with both of his jobs.

"So Stan is coming back this weekend, you excited?" Kenny asked.

"yeah, I can't wait, it's been 3 months since he was last here!" Lies, lies, lies. Kyle put on his best 'excited face' but he was pretty sure it wasn't fooling anyone. The last thing he needed now was the emotional turmoil that Stan would inevitably bring with his occassional, inconsiderate visits.  
"I still can't believe he's got a well-paid business job already, the lucky fuck" Kenny laughed. That was supposed to be me, Kyle thought, and then quickly chastised himself for being so selfish.  
"It's okay to miss him, dude" damn Kenny and his mind reading powers. Kenny reached across and grabbed Kyle's hand. He was the only one Kyle had told about what had happened with Stan before they left for college.  
"I'm just not sure I want him to come back, I don't need that again, not right now..." the red head stared fixatedly at his pasta as he said this, as if somewhere in its tangle of curls it held some kind of solution to all this.  
"We both know that's not true." Kenny retorted, with a wry smile.  
"...I know."

x

Stan sat with his ear buds in listening to his 'chilled' playlist on shuffle. He had given up trying to sleep on this long-haul flight, as even in business class his long 6ft 2" frame made leg room tight at best, and he couldn't get comfy. On top of that, the all too familiar buzz of anticipation and nervousness at the thought of returning to South Park was beginning to build in his stomach. He had assumed that putting distance and time between himself and his hometown might leave him less concerned with the place, and with his old friends, but the opposite had proved true. Whenever he had to spend a long stint without visiting he found himself thinking about them all more and more, and life in New York with a junior (though handsomely paid) corporate role was not proving to be everything he had hoped. Instead of feeling involved and finally having a great social life, the big city left Stan feeling more alone than ever, and distant from the people he cared about most. There was even some distance between him and Kyle. He pulled the chord of his buds out of his phone and into the TV embedded in the seat in front of him, choosing some awful family comedy and turning up the volume. His body gave an involuntary shudder, even though it wasn't at all cold on the plane, as if it was a response to his attempts to silence his depressing thoughts.

The flight was uneventful, Stan's favourite type of flight, and when he took his phone off flight mode he couldn't quite supress a laugh at the text he received from Kenny,

**When does your big important business flight for big important business people land, corporate ass-kisser?** - Kenny

**haha. I'm just in NY, waiting for my connection to Denver. Are you still picking me up from the airport or will you be at work, hiding in the storeroom using a wrench as a makeshift dildo?** - Stan

**That's not a bad idea, I hadn't thought of that ;) I'll be there. Might bring your boyfriend along if he's not busy** - Kenny

**Sure thing homes** - Stan

**'homes'? oh god you better not be back in that Latin phase haha -** Kenny

The casualness of his reply masked Stan's real thoughts. This is the longest he has been without visiting - the best part of 6 months - and he was more worried than ever that things would be weird between him and Kyle. They had been a little weird ever since...that conversation...but they had always muddled through. Now Stan was starting to feel like maybe Kenny was the closest friend Kyle had and not him, and that was something that, despite the awkwardness, he really didn't like. Hopefully he could use this break to show Kyle they were still super best friends; he had taken all his holiday for the year at once, which was almost a month, and he hadn't told anyone yet. The fact that he still hadn't managed to shake off that tingling feeling whenever he thought about Kyle had nothing to do with it, Stan thought. He just needed to see his super best friend again, because he missed his company and he was pretty sure – at least he hoped – that Kyle had missed him too, even if he seemed less willing to put in the effort of regular video chats and phone calls that Stan tried to keep up. As he boarded his second flight of the day a sinking feeling was starting to build inside Stan, that maybe a month back with Kyle and Kenny wasn't such a great idea, or things would be awkward, or different, or maybe – no, calm down. He needed to stop letting himself get so worked up. Despite the fact that he kept telling himself he was seeing his oldest and best friends, and there was no need for any nerves or anxiety, Stan couldn't help but feel odd about this trip, as if it was somehow more significant than a trip back home should be. Even the way he thought about it told him something, he still thought of South Park as home, not New York where he had spent most of the last 2 years. He was going home.


	2. Wacko Town Called Home

As much as he hated to admit it, Stan felt a slight pang of rejection when Kyle wasn't waiting with Kenny at Denver airport. It was pretty late by the time his flight had landed, and was dark enough for the infamous 'demonic' horse statue to be in its full glowing-red-eyed glory. He felt bad when Kenny asked him what was wrong - it meant he'd let his disappointment show, and Kenny had driven all the way over to pick him up.

"He wanted to come, he was called in to work at Shakey's last minute, someone was ill." Kenny clearly hadn't lost his acute perception of what was upsetting people, and that did make Stan snap out of his all too common, slightly neurotic over-thinking.

"Dude, it's fine, I'm just a bit tired from two flights. I still want to be filled in on everything I've missed though, so get going." Stan grinned as he poked Kenny in the side.

"Where do you want me to start?" Kenny asked as he pulled onto the freeway in his trusty pickup.

"How about at the beginning?" that comment earned Stan a sock in the shoulder. "fine, fine, how about you and your girl, how's that?" It was possibly a slightly overly-serious place to begin, but Stan was certainly not going to start by asking about Kyle. Besides, how was he supposed to know where to start, he doesn't know what he has missed - that was kind of the point of a catch-up.

"It's pretty great. It's an open relationship though, nothing serious - you know me." Kenny winked and laughed as he said this, but Stan couldn't quite tell how sincere it was.  
"What is it with your aversion to a normal relationship?" Stan laughed back, but it was a casual remark he was using to try and test if Kenny really was happy with this.  
"You sound like Kyle, change the record jeez. Monogamy this, marriage that. I'm 23 not 45 for fuck's sake!" He was still joking, but there was a definite hint of seriousness now.  
"Besides," Kenny continued, "it means if I get bored or want to mix it up a bit I can, nothing's off-limits. It's beautiful, you should try it, and there's no crippling emotional break down if it gets ended, a-la Stan and Wendy Testaburger."  
"Dude, c'mon, bringing up ancient history? Really?" Stan couldn't help but grin though, Kenny did have a point. They were young, and Kenny had been grasping that to the fullest as far as Stan could tell. Plenty of sex, plenty of partners, and, as Kenny was so forthcoming in telling him, plenty of exploration. Sure Kenny mostly dated girls, but that wasn't an absolute rule for him as it was for Stan, and he took every opportunity that came his way to enjoy being young, free and good-looking (well, Stan could imagine girls found him attractive, he quickly qualified). But that was Kenny. And Stan was, well, Stan, and emotional baggage was kind of his thing.

"Anyway, Craig is back and working at the grocery store, Butters is around and Cartman's still up in Denver I think." Kenny mused "that's pretty much it. No one new apart from Craig has come back since you were last here."  
"huh, wonder what brought Craig back from working up in Canada?" To be honest Stan didn't really care; beyond Kyle, Kenny, and a sort of weird curiosity in whether Cartman had lost the plot completely and gone on a killing rampage yet, he wasn't too bothered about his old classmates, even though he had known most of them since Kindergarten. I suppose he was the sort of guy to have a few, really close friends rather than a big group, as his friendship with Kyle and Kenny showed.  
Conversation from there turned to Stan's own life in New York, his roommates, his job. All the stuff Stan was really looking forward to getting away from to be honest. He could have gone on holiday somewhere with a nice beach, or some bustling city thousands of miles away, but he thought the best way to get away from it all would be to come back to South Park and feel like he did 5 years ago again, so this wasn't his ideal conversation.

Mercifully they were passing that memorable sign before long and were back in the little wacko town they called home. "Where exactly am I taking you?" Kenny asked "Kyle's place?"  
"Nah, he did sort of offer last time we skyped but he didn't seem that thrilled, besides I think I ought to spend a bit of time with the rents" Stan replied flatly.  
"Ah, weak!" Kenny threw him a sympathetic look "I'm sure Kyle would love to have you, and if not you're more than welcome at mine."  
"Thanks Ken, but to be honest I think Dad has being driving Mom even crazier since Shelly and I left, and I think she'd like someone else around for a bit." Stan could feel his face pull into an involuntary grimace even as he said this though; he hated life in the Marsh household. Not because he didn't love his parents, he did, just nothing could wind him up quite like them (well, quite like Randy anyway).

"Fair enough, your poor mom does deserve a break. I can help her shake off some of that stress if you want Stan..." this time Kenny was the one getting a punch to the shoulder, "dude, a backrub! I just meant a backrub! What's up with you thinking about sexual things any time someone mentions your mom, weirdo?" Stan just flipped him the bird, before quickly changing subject.  
"Want to go to Shakey's and see Kyle once I've dropped my shit off?"

It turned out that Kenny knew that Shakey's split the table service by splitting the room into quarters, and he knew which quarter was Kyle's usual. As it was a Thursday night there was pretty much a free choice of tables, making Stan suspect they clearly weren't in desperate need of Kyle's help tonight, but also letting them ask for a table where the redhead would be serving them. Stan found himself agitated, his fingers drumming the table and the pumping of his blood becoming more...noticeable, as if he could hear it as it coursed through the his ears just under the skin, and he became acutely aware of his heart beating. He really had missed Kyle, Stan guessed, this didn't have to mean what he was worried it meant; I mean they had never been apart for longer than a couple months, and for the first 18 years of their lives never for more than a week, and only if one of them went on holiday with their family.

All this thinking was cut short pretty rapidly when a bored looking Kyle finally did emerge from the Kitchen, notepad in hand ready to take their order. Stan could feel himself grinning like a fucking moron, and he watched Kyle's face flick rapidly from surprise through to - wait - unease? It quickly turned into a wide smile as Kyle rushed over to greet him in one of their trademark lengthy hugs, but Stan was pretty sure that wasn't the initial reaction. Oh well, he knew better than to ruin a nice moment, and for now he was just looking forward to an evening of cheap but damn good pizza and fucking with Kyle while he tried to work, which was exactly what the doctor ordered to brighten things up.

Kyle was in good shape, was the first thing he had thought, and he had kept his hair fairly short like the last time Stan had seen him, so it was sort of swept over to the side, with a few red curls lying across his forehead. As much as Stan had loved the Jewfro, this looked a lot better. He stood up to greet him properly and suddenly felt immensely self-conscious - he was still in his suit.  
"I know, I know, I look like a complete douche.." Stan pulled an imaginary trigger against his head to show how disgusted with himself his inner Stan was.  
"Stan, look at me, I'm in a fucking Shakey's uniform!" Kyle completed this comeback with a runway style twirl, which cracked Stan up no end. "And besides" Kyle continued "you look pretty sharp dude." This was one hundred percent a lie, Stan was sure of it, but he wasn't going to reject a compliment. He still had his scraggly, bed-head black hair, and although his face looked older and slimmer he still looked young, and he felt like a child in his father's suit, out of place and uncomfortable.  
Kyle's demeanour suddenly changed as he realised his boss was standing just a few feet away, and as anyone who had had the pleasure of experiencing one of Kyle's half hour long angry rants will know, his boss was hardly the easiest to work with.  
"Are you ready to order sir?" Stan and Kenny both sputtered out a laugh as soon as Kyle used the word 'sir' - when you're best friend of 23 years has to call you sir, it's just plain funny.

"I will have the meat maniac please" Stan tried to play this as seriously as possible "but without any spicy sausage, pork, pepperoni or bacon, and with ham and pineapple added please."  
"so...that's a Hawaiian right?" Kyle asked slowly as he processed the order "err no, it's a meat maniac minus the sausage, pork, pepperoni and bacon but with added ham and pineapple"  
"but that's everything on the meat maniac taken off, and you've just described a Hawaiian!" It was too easy to get Kyle riled up.  
"but I'm the customer right?" Stan raised his voice a little, but being careful not to actually be loud enough for Kyle's boss to hear "I thought the customer was always right?"  
There was a pause as Kyle gave him the biggest death glare he could manage, before finally muttering "so that's one meat maniac, without the sausage, pork, pepperoni and bacon and with added ham and pineapple. What can I get you sir?"  
Kenny just smiled, "just a pepperoni pizza please" but before Kyle could look too relieved "but make the pepperoni slices into a smiley face. I won't eat a pizza that's not happy."

Luckily for Kyle, Stan and Kenny's fun got old quickly, and they left him in peace until his shift finished. He couldn't help glancing over at them as he worked though, at how unusual it was seeing Stan in a suit. Only at a funeral had he seen Stan like that before, and he brushed up really well in a sort of I'm-not-even-trying kind of way. It felt like a bit of a slap in the face though him showing up in a suit, like he was flaunting his job over Kyle in his old Shakey's uniform.  
"Well finally, it's 11 already" Kenny grumbled as Kyle finally emerged back in his own clothes. "It's not my fault they work us to death" Kyle held up his hands in the classic 'not my problem' pose as he replied. "Besides, no one asked you to come piss me off and then wait for me" he glowered.  
"Aren't you glad we did?" Stan embraced Kyle, which was weird, because they had already done the whole greeting thing inside. He enjoyed it anyway, though he never let on. It actually bugged the hell out of him how casual Stan was being when he still felt uncomfortable, ever since things had gotten weird between them. "Yeah, course I am."

They quickly made their way to the only bar in South Park still open on a week night, and Kenny insisted on buying the first round of drinks (probably hoping if Kyle went last he wouldn't have to buy a second round later which he knew was more than Kyle should be spending). "It's been too long since the three of us were all together" Kenny started, following the comment with a swig of beer.  
"Yeah, and Kenny didn't really fill me in, and you're always too busy for a Skype call that's more than a couple minutes long..." Kyle winced at this internally, it was true he had been bad at keeping up with Stan, but he was ridiculously busy, and seeing Stan on Skype without him actually being near kind of bummed him out. "Any luck on the lady front Kye?" Stan winked, using the nickname only he ever called Kyle.

"Nope. nada. nil. nothing. Not since I got my second job, I work at the call centre most of the day Monday to Saturday and I work Shakey's most nights. No time for lovin"

Kenny laughed as Kyle said this, before correcting, "there's always time for lovin Kyle. No relationship, sure, but hitting the town and getting laid? Even you could find time for that." It was as if Stan could tell this was making Kyle a bit uncomfortable though, so he tried to jump in by telling Kenny not everyone wants that, and going out looking for one night stands isn't as easy as that, and they are more expensive and effort than he let on. "God you're so old dude" was Kenny's only response to that.

"I have a surprise for you guys!" Stan suddenly announced, grinning. "I'm taking all my holiday for the year at once, I'm back for pretty much a whole month!" Stan beamed. Kyle was knocked back a bit by this. Stan back for a few days he could handle no problem, but a month would make really make things...hard for him. Stan's face faltered a bit. "You could look a bit happier Kye..." He tailed off.

"No it's not that, that's awesome, it's just I'm so tired, I've been working for 14 hours today. I'm hyped, like, seriously." It was hard to believe, but then he knew it was obvious how hard he had been working. There were bags under his eyes big enough to carry groceries, and they were a little bloodshot, a look Kyle knew he'd been rocking a lot lately.

Stan had necked three beers by the time Kyle and Kenny were mid-way through the second, which made Kyle make a mental note to keep an eye on Stan's drinking - which was stupid because he hadn't had any problems for years, and Stan could always drink him and Kenny under the table - but still. Kyle was watching him absentmindedly picking the label off his beer bottle, something he always did when he was drinking. Kyle and Kenny had always insisted it was a habit caused by sexual frustration, just to wind Stan up. Suddenly Stan was getting up though, and announced he had to take off as he no longer kept a key to his parents' house and they would be in bed soon, and he didn't want to be locked out.

"Sorry Stan, you know I'd let you crash at mine, but I don't have a spare bed anymore." Kyle knew this was ridiculous as he said it, since he and Stan had been sharing a bed not very long ago, and even now he had a perfectly usable sofa. Stan didn't comment, but Kyle could see he looked a little crestfallen as he took off back home.

"What's your deal?" Kenny asked as soon as Stan was out of earshot. "I mean, I offered to let him stay, and you didn't?! You're Stan and Kyle, in case you'd forgotten."

"Doesn't mean we're fucking glued to each other Kenny" Kyle was in no mood to explain himself, and Kenny was prying, as he's oft to do.

"It used to." Was all he said, before dropping the subject.

Kyle lay in bed cursing himself mentally. He had fucked up today pretty badly, he was sure of it. Stan had come back and he'd been nothing but grumpy and miserable. It was supposed to be Stan that was the borderline depressive, overly cynical bastard. Kyle wasn't exactly the happy-go-lucky type, but he was usually a lot cheerier. He knew why he felt like that though, and he wasn't surprised. His 'little crush' on Stan hadn't gone away like it was supposed to, like Stan's curiosity clearly had. He wished things were back to the way they were before that stupid conversation in their last summer together. A drunken Stan had kissed Kyle after a summer party, and started gushing a whole load of bull about how he thought Kyle was sexy. In the morning to Kyle's surprise Stan didn't forget, but was understandable embarrassed. Kyle had told him it was okay, and he found Stan attractive too, which led to a run of the mill mini-breakdown from his best friend. He could remember the silence as Stan sat with his face in his hands thinking about what Kyle had said, before saying he thought it was best they just ignored this and hoped it went away. At the time part of Kyle actually agreed – they had got into different colleges a long way apart, and to start anything crazy on a whim like that when neither were sure of how they really felt would have been stupid. So they decided to go their separate ways, stay as friends and hope that the distance and time burnt out their little attraction. 'It's just teen hormones' Stan had said. The thing was, it hadn't gone away, not for Kyle. Seeing Stan mad him nervous and frustrated, and he tended to lash out to try and regain control of the situation. When he'd said Stan couldn't stay with him it was partly due to the fact that he didn't want him seeing how bare his house was, after he'd had to ebay anything non-essential, but it was mainly that he couldn't handle being around him 24-7, getting used to seeing him and being near him only for Stan to jet off again in a month.

Kyle glanced over at his phone – it was 3 AM. Fuck. He had been thinking, wide awake for hours. Now he made a conscious decision – Stan probably never felt more than a bit of teen curiosity and lust, unlike Kyle's full blown desire for his best friend – but even so, if Stan could act casual and get over it so could he. He had far bigger things to worry about anyway, like the credit card bill sitting on his bedside table which he had absolutely no means of paying. Kyle was going to work at getting his best friend back and ending this weirdness, and he was going to sort his life out at the same time. It was time to take control.

_Okay hope you guys liked that, it was a bit longer as promised! Next chapters the plot might pick up a bit more speed (shit will happen eventually, I swear haha!) and it might get a little more…heated. Anyway thanks for my lovely review from a mystery guest, it made me more motivated to get this out quickly. Please if you guys enjoyed it or hated it, let me know! Until next time…._


	3. Charity Case

_Hi again guys! I'm hoping to get a chapter out every week. Anyway I just realised I have never done one of those disclaimers everyone else does, so I thought I'd put one in. Not sure why, I can't imagine SWAT teams arriving at my house if I didn't, but hey.__  
__As you all know, I don't own SP or the characters or anything you recognise. Hope you enjoy!_

Kyle detested early mornings. It was 5.30 AM and even the gloomy pre-sunrise light was enough to leave his pale sleep-adjusted green eyes flinching and struggling to stay open. The 30 minute walk to work wasn't so bad; in a way he was glad he had never owned a car as he would only have been forced to sell it by now and he was already used to walking. Most of the people in the houses he passed still had a comfortable hour or two in bed before the day caught up with them, but Kyle had already been up for half an hour, showered, shaved, dressed and was now power-walking whilst eating breakfast (just buttered toast). He was glad of the exercise at least, and that combined with his meagre food budget had ensured he had stayed slim and toned, if lacking a little muscle. Another positive of the rushed walk was that it got his adrenaline going, and today more than ever Kyle needed it. Today he was asking - no pleading - for a pay rise, or failing that an advance on his salary. He didn't have much hope, but the banks had quite literally laughed when he asked for a new loan and his hated boss Dan at Shakey's had made it fairly clear that Kyle was lucky to have a job let alone a pay rise. This was pretty much his only option so he needed some luck, even if it meant he spared a quick glance to the heavens and a muttered prayer, something he hadn't done in a long while.

The meticulous planning of exactly how he was going to phrase this delicate question took up much of the rest of the walk, but after grabbing a cup of water and sitting at his cubicle Kyle had a lot of the momentum smacked straight out of him. It felt like for a brief moment he had been sucked into some impossible alternate reality, but he knew he wasn't mistaken. Token Black was standing in the middle of the office, in an expensive looking dark grey suit, and poised as if about to make a speech.  
"Good morning everyone. My name is Mr Black, and as of today I am taking over from Mrs Weaver as office manager. I hope we can all work well together and I'm sure the next few years will be enjoyable ones. I must warn you all though that there are going to be a few changes - head office expects higher productivity from this place. That means we need to handle calls faster, increase the total number of calls made and cut some costs. It's tough competing with call centres out in India and elsewhere as labour is more expensive here, but the company has faith in us and is proud of only employing from within the US. Let's not let them down." With that he headed for his office and Kyle slowly raised his bottom jaw again, taking it all in. Token was his boss. The boy that always came a few marks behind him in class tests, and that just missed out on going to Harvard with him, was now his boss. Jealousy and anger were the emotions that sprang to mind, but Kyle knew it wasn't Token's fault, it was his. He had liked Katherine - or 'Mrs Weaver' as Token called her - and she had been sympathetic to him in a subtle way, never confronting Kyle's obvious financial issues but turning a blind eye when he had to use work time to try to reason with an impatient bank or quickly check the progress of an ebay auction he needed to help him with his rent. Still, perhaps this was a good thing, having someone he used to be friends with (they got along well enough at least) as his boss. He couldn't delay his desperate plan because of this, that much was for sure. The electricity bill on his kitchen work top back home needed immediate attention that he couldn't avoid.

Surprisingly nerves didn't get the better of him, and neither did his sense of shame at having to plead with a former classmate, as Kyle felt his legs moving towards the door of Token's office. It still bore the name 'Mrs. K. Weaver - Manager' on shiny metal plate. Kyle had barely realised he was doing this, it was probably the inner Broflovski taking over - the sort of fire that used to consume him in his arguments with Cartman as a kid and which were inherited from his mother. He knocked gently three times, as was called in by the familiar voice inside.

"Hi, Token. I was wondering if I could have a quick word..." He began, edging through the door.

"It's Mr Black when we're at work, Kyle." That was a setback, no doubt. His voice was so flat and professional; it wasn't even particularly smug, just cold and unattached.

"uh..right...okay, Mr Black, I was hoping to discuss my salary - I know you've just started but I think I might have earned a raise..." He was mentally bitch-slapping himself for the way his voice cracked as he had said that. Pathetic. You look pathetic Kyle, was all he could think.

"I'm afraid that's not going to be possible, Kyle. Like I said outside, we need to cut costs in this department not increase them - I can't give anyone a rise and I can't give 'special treatment' to people I know. I thought you'd understand that." He was staring at the disgruntled employee as he spoke, and he might have even looked a little disappointed, as if this was some plot to take advantage of him or something.

"No you don't understand Mr Black, I'm not asking for special treatment, I was going to make this request anyway. I know that some of the people in my team are on quite a bit more money than me, and I know I'm fairly new but I do the most calls of anyone and I-"

Kyle was cut off mid-flow though as Token said, "look, my hands are tied at the moment. If I have to tell head office I've given a pay rise my head will be straight on the chopping block. They've got my nuts in a vice on this cost cutting." That was the first even slightly un-professional comment he had made, and he gave a slight smile as he said it, imploring Kyle to understand and let it lie. Only that wasn't an option.

"Look, Toke - Mr Black - I really need this pay rise. You know I wouldn't say this if it wasn't true. I have a load of bills to pay and…and I could lose my house, I don't know what to do anymore. I was a kid when I took on all that debt and I can't keep up, I really, really need this..." Every word felt like it stung the inside of his mouth and his tongue as he spoke, the stinging travelling up the sides of his face and pricking at his eyes, trying to draw out tears to make this shame complete, but not quite succeeding.

"Couldn't you stay with your parents? Or Kenny?" Token seemed genuinely concerned now, probably because of just how out of character that outburst was.

"My parents have had to move house to help me pay off some of it already, there's barely enough room for them in the new house, and Ike sleeps on a couch because of me. Kenny lives in a one-bed flat with Cassidy, and he lives the other side of town so I couldn't get to work..." Kyle felt he was on the front foot now, Token felt bad for him at least, which was a start.

"And Stan, have you asked him for help, or money?" That question was somewhat predictable, but no less uncomfortable.

"...well, no. I just...I just can't okay." Something about that idea was totally unthinkable. Asking Stan for help should be normal, should be the first thing he tried, but that wasn't how it felt. Maybe it was because he didn't want Stan to have something else over him, and he already seemingly controlled Kyle's feelings, and his mood, and his desires. This problem was his, not Stan's.

"To be honest Kyle I can't sit here discussing your personal problems any longer. The answer is no and being frank these issues aren't the company's problem."

"But I deserve this! At least think about it! Or can I have next month's pay in advance then?" Kyle made the fatal mistake of raising his voice ever so slightly, which Token seemed to perceive as aggression or some attack on his authority.

"No, Kyle. Now consider this my FINAL word on the matter and please leave my office." His constant use of Kyle's first name after humiliating him with demanding to be called Mr Black was just too much, and Kyle knew he was about to snap just before it actually happened.

"Fuck! I thought you were my friend, Token" he emphasised the young man's first name, staring him down as he spoke, "can't you see I need help?!"

"Speak to Stan then? You sure spent a lot more time with him than with me at school, Kyle. I suggest you step outside, take a few breaths and then come back in and apologise for-"

"Go fuck yourself, Token!" Kyle spat, before he could catch himself.

"That's it. You're hereby suspended - without pay - for the rest of the week. Now get out before I call security."

"f-fuck" Stan muttered in between breaths, increasing the speed of his hand movements. His eyes were screwed shut and his mind was darting between mental images, looking for something to tip him over the edge. His steady rhythm was quickly lost as he began to franticly pump, his wrist jerking wildly and the water of the shower still enveloping him in a perfect heat. He had to grasp at the shower rail to steady himself as his body went taught and he let out a low raspy groan, staying there for a few seconds before leaning back against the wall with a sigh.

Only once he was out of the shower and towel drying his hair did Stan confront the fact that it had - yet again - been an image of his best friend that had come to the forefront of his mind just as he had reached the edge. It felt like every time it was either a mental image of Kyle shirtless at the beach two years ago, or one of the many memories of his best friend walking around in his boxers after getting out of bed, showing off that luscious ass. This had been a problem for some time now (to be precise it had been on and off since he was about 16) but recently it was worse. The disgusted feeling he always had after thinking about Kyle that way had inevitably arrived, and it made Stan unimaginably angry with himself. He had to relax before reaching for his razor and shaving foam, otherwise he was certain he would end up hurting himself. You can't help how you feel. You can't help how you feel. He kept that mantra running in his mind as he applied the cool gel to his neck and face.

As he started to methodically draw the blades across his skin he couldn't avoid thinking back to that night, yet again. He had almost ruined his friendship with Kyle and he was sure as hell never making the same mistake again. In one of their last nights in South Park before they left for college Stan had gone (after a few gulps of whiskey for Dutch courage) to see Kyle, and he told him how he felt before stepping closer to him and pressing their lips together for a brief moment, holding in the unsettling feeling in his stomach. Kyle had told him he was drunk, and got him to go to bed with a promise to talk about it in the morning. When they woke up Stan actually told Kyle that he, well, didn't find guys unattractive, and in particular he didn't find him unattractive. Stan can still remember the huge, seemingly endless gap of silence that followed, as he just stared at Kyle waiting for any kind of reply. When Kyle eventually spoke, it was so quiet he remembered barely hearing as the redhead told Stan that he thought he might feel the same way, but pointed out they were about to leave for different colleges, miles apart, so he didn't know what to do. Only then had Stan realised what he'd done. He had put Kyle in the worst possible position, probably feeling that rejecting Stan would risk their friendship. Kyle had thought about it and he had found a way out without making it obvious he wasn't interested, and Stan wasn't going to close the door on him. He had told Kyle that he was right, and even if they did have feelings they would be stupid to act on them. They were young, horny and confused, at an age where developing confusing feelings for the people closest to you was probably quite likely. Starting any kind of relationship now would not only be bizarre for both of them - who had given little hint of being anything other than straight up until this point - but it would also be near impossible from their different colleges. They should just leave it, bury it and it would naturally go away as they moved on. After a while Stan even started thinking this was a good idea himself; he was probably straight anyway, he had never felt that way about any guy that wasn't Kyle. Time would put things back to normal.

"Stanley are you almost finished?" A gentle knock at the door from his mother was enough to reel in his wandering mind and he quickly finished shaving, realising he had been repeatedly covering the same spot on his cheek for around five minutes and it was now an agitated pink.

"Just coming out now!" He shouted back, but not escaping an interjection from Randy.

"You spend an awful long time in there son, that's something women should be doing not men…" Insightful, as always.

Things must have been quiet without Shelly or him around as both his parents had been hovering around him pretty much constantly for the few hours he had been home, looking for any welcome distraction from each other's company. God he hated being around them when they weren't getting along. Some faded dark jeans and plain black T-shirt was all Stan could find that would fit – most of his stuff was either in the wash or back in New York – so that and his coat would have to do. A quick waffle his Mom had left on the kitchen table for him and he was ready to go, even if he didn't know exactly where he was planning on going. Anywhere but here, that much was for sure. It was still mid-morning as well so he had a whole day to himself, something he hadn't been expecting, but his lie-in had been cut short by a strange mix of invading strands of sunlight through his thin curtains and an unexplained excitement that kept his heart rate too high to relax. Regardless, he was now up and closing the front door behind him so he might as well figure out something to do.

Even though Stan wasn't planning on seeing anyone else he knew whilst he was back in town (he hadn't told any of his old friends apart from Kyle and Kenny and he largely wanted it to be just the three of them), he hadn't factored in how busy the pair would be with their own jobs, which seemed a bit stupid of him now. After Kenny had mentioned that Butters was still around though he sort of wanted to see him, since as they'd got a bit older they had stopped treating people like Butters as 'melvins' (even thinking about that old insult brought around a whole shedload of nostalgia and a little guilt) and the childish divides of who was and wasn't popular eased off a lot. Butters still wasn't what anyone would describe as cool, but when you got to know him he was pretty good company and not quite as naive as he had been when he was younger, though a fair chunk of that side of him never went away. He was undeniably one of the nicest people you could ever meet though and Stan had grown pretty fond of him in High School, so he thought he might as well see if the little blond still had the same number.

Hi Butters, it's been a while! Not sure if you still use this number or still have mine, but it's Stan - I'm back in town and wondered if you fancied grabbing a coffee while I'm back, to catch up?- Stan

If he knew anything about Butters he would still be blown away and elated that Stan had bothered to contact him with something like that, which made Stan smile. Before any of this though he had another job to do, which was heading into town to find a DVD and some snacks to take round to Kyle's for tonight; he was hoping to cheer him up a bit after seeing him so down at work yesterday.

**Well hi Stan! It sure has been a while. I'd love to meet up but I'm actually at work at the moment. I can do Saturday though if that works for you? – **Butters

**Great, how's 3.30 at the café in town? **– Stan

**That's a plan, Stan! **– Butters

Oh god, trust Butters to come out with something like that. Stan liked the fact that meeting up for coffee in South Park was so simple, with only about two cafés; he was used to the endless hive of places, landmarks and streets that made up Manhattan so it was very refreshing to be able to tell Butters so easily where to go. The DVD pretty much chose itself as Step Brothers, a film he and Kyle had found hilarious when it came out but he hadn't seen since, which mean they could give it the age old test of 'is it still funny now we're not teens?'. With some sweets and sugar free snacks in hand Stan went to the checkout at the grocery store, where he exchanged a few awkward words with Craig about how he was doing and if he was well before exiting as quickly as possible. Kyle had said that he and Craig spoke occasionally now and he wasn't so difficult anymore, but Stan really wasn't in the mood to be moaned at or flipped off, not while he was in a weird sort of buzz of happiness that he hadn't felt in a while.

Stan left the grocery store for home only about two minutes before a slightly dazed looking redhead walked in, having just missed him. Kyle picked up some bread, milk and a chicken breast – pretty much essentials for the next few days – and only afforded Craig a slight nod in response to his greeting.

"What the fuck's crawled up your ass Kyle?" He asked while fairly aggressively trying to scan the troublesome barcode on the loaf of bread.

"Just the usual endless stream of problems." Kyle just kept trying to avoid reflecting on just how badly today had gone. That task became infinitely harder when Craig told him his card had been rejected.

"What?! No that's my only useable one, try it again" Kyle spluttered racking his brains to check if he'd made a mistake on the dates of his bills.

"Still rejecting it dude, is everything…okay?" It was a rare bit of sympathy from Craig, who although it was true to say was slightly less difficult was still devoid of a lot of care. He even looked scarier than he used to, with a few tribal tattoos and a piercing in his right ear which held a gleaming metal stud.

"I know you have money problems, Kyle, there's no point being a pussy about it." Craig said in his usual monotone, devoid of much warmth.

"Ugh, I - well, yeah." Nice going thought Kyle, after that verbal mess slipped out.

"Look if it's really that bad and you have no other options I think I know someone who may be able to help." Now he had Kyle's attention, and the redhead was quick to reply.

"Who? I think I'm desperate now." He still hated himself every time he admitted that out loud.

"Uh...here" Kyle watched Craig start writing a phone number down on the back of his receipt. Wait, receipt? The redhead realised Craig must have paid for his shopping while he was busy staring at his feet and avoiding eye contact. He thought he should say something, at least 'thank you' or try to refuse the offer, but he couldn't bring himself to speak.

"It's Cartman's number." Craig finally stated, placing the wrinkled piece of paper in Kyle's outstretched palm.

"WhatWHAT?" The words just shot out in his surprise, but on the bright side it looked like he was still one final 'what' away from actually becoming his mother.

"He lends money to people, up in Denver. Y'know, when the banks turn them away. I remember Butters saying he almost borrowed off him when he got really sick last year and had big hospital bills." Cartman was a loan shark. Well, actually that figured, but Butters had been really ill and he'd had no idea? Kyle knew he and Butters had never been close friends, and he hadn't really understood why Stan liked him, but he felt guilty he didn't even know about this.

"Not this desperate, fuckwit! Cartman? Are you fuckin kidding me? I'd rather die, Jesus." That had maybe been a bit harsh, and Craig responded it his inevitable fashion, flipping him the bird before telling him to go fuck himself then. Craig turned away after saying this, taking the receipt from Kyle and putting it in his shopping bag before turning to help another customer. Kyle stood there for a couple of seconds, a little unsure of his next move, before sliding the bag off the counter and heading for the door.

The spring air wasn't as invigorating as it had been this morning, and walking was making him angry. Going to Cartman was unthinkable; out of the question. There was no way, he just wouldn't do it. Stan and his parents were the only options then, but the thought of both of those made him so unsettled that Kyle wanted to go and purge himself with alcohol for even thinking it, and getting smashed was not something he often did. No, he had to at least talk to Stan and let him know, so he started planning how to phrase this so that Stan would see he wasn't looking for him to get all high and mighty, he just wanted someone to understand. They were best friends - no super best friends, as ridiculous as it was - and super best friends told each other their problems.

As he got out his phone to send Stan a text asking to meet him he found it vibrated in his hand, with a message popping up:

I'll be at yours at 6 tonight, we're hanging out. Just thought I'd let you know, you don't actually have a choice...-Stan

Kyle smiled at this, since it did often seem that the two of them were weirdly in sync. That gave him a few hours to kill, which meant he could go find somewhere quiet and think of ways out of this mess. Ways to get money that didn't involve Stan, his parents or especially Eric fucking Cartman. Or failing that he could just think of the best local landmark to hurl himself off. To be honest he'd probably end up thinking about Stan; that was how most of his deep thinking sessions ended, and at least today his problems with Stan almost seemed trivial compared with how screwed he was financially. Almost seemed trivial, but he doubted they would ever seem unimportant really, being obsessed with your best friend and his beautiful face and perfect personality. Not when what he was feeling seemed so strong, so permanent.

He had barely been in the house for half an hour after his unproductive afternoon of thinking before he heard the knock of Stan at the door, unusually ten minutes early.

The anxiety Kyle felt at revealing the true extent of his situation actually dissipated a little on hearing this, because there was no backtracking now. When Stan saw that Kyle's house had just a handful of pieces of furniture, an ancient TV and his old Xbox, and that he had dealt with a leak in the ceiling using a bucket, there would be no hiding from it anymore.

"Hi Stan!" Kyle mustered all the positivity he could find.

"C'mere you!" Stan engulfed him in a bear hug, and even though the raven haired boy was an inch or so shorter than Kyle's 6ft 1 he was naturally a little broader and muscular, and lifted Kyle off the ground. Seeing him grinning furiously and not in a suit like last time made Kyle smile a little too, and he had to quickly tear himself away from staring at his friend as he felt his heart rate rising and his mind becoming blurred so that all he could think about was the young man on his doorstep. Kyle gestured as if to say 'come on in' and decided at that moment not to make any comment on the house but to just let Stan say whatever he felt like saying. He studied his face carefully as he walked in, and watched his clouded blue eyes scanning from the peeling paint to the battered old couch and then at fixing on the ground. It looked for a second like Stan was about to say something, but then he quickly just smiled and handed Kyle a DVD and some popcorn.

"Step Brothers?" Kyle laughed, "I haven't seen that film in forever!"

Stan slumped down onto the couch before agreeing, "Me neither. I've been looking forward to chilling just the two of us all day..." He then gave Kyle just about the most fucking amazing smile he'd ever seen. It wasn't big and toothy, but it looked so genuine, like he was packing all of his feeling into one expression. Trying to ignore Stan's face would be a lot easier once the film was actually on, Kyle figured, saying, "If I'd know this was happening then I would have too! Now let's get this show on the road."

He sat back on the couch and hit play on the Xbox controller, but he couldn't help but notice Stan's breathing seemed a little heavy and irregular for just sitting around. Seeing Kyle's shitty, tiny house probably made him uncomfortable or something.

After around half an hour of the film the two had been laughing intermittently (though more at remarks the other would make than at the actual film), until the screen suddenly went black with a crackle, and the lights shut off a split second later. Fuck-fucking-fuck was all Kyle could think. He should have known the electricity bill would ruin a nice moment.

"Why aren't you saying anything?" He asked after a brief silence, a little louder than he'd hoped it would come out.

"About what?" Stan asked, only for Kyle to give him a look best summarised by 'are you a complete moron?'

"You fucking know what I mean. About the house, about this-" he gestured at the darkness around them, brightened only slightly by the light from a street lamp outside gently coming through the window. "About everything." He finished.

"I..." there was a fairly long pause after that ambitious early start from Stan. "Well I guess I just wanted to have fun with you. I knew you were a little short of cash but you looked so down when I saw you yesterday that I thought mentioning it wouldn't help. I mean I am a little surprised the house is...like this, and when the lights shut out, but if it was serious you'd have told me." Stan said that last part without the confidence he would have once had; it sounded almost shaky, and it submerged Kyle in a massive vat of steaming, shitty guilt.

The redhead didn't make any move to say anything, so Stan kept going, "We can talk now, if you're okay with that?" To be honest, Kyle sort of was.

"It's pretty bad. I know I can sort it out, but it's a little rough right now." He started off, gearing up to give Stan the whole story. As he placed a solitary candle on the kitchen table and sat down, that's exactly what he did. From the mounting bills and working almost 24/7 to his attempts to see banks, and then finally his little catastrophe with Token this morning. Stan just sat silently, staring at him the entire time and seeming reluctant to even blink in case he missed some important bit of body language that added to what Kyle was saying. Stan had always been a phenomenal listener.

"That piece of shit!" He finally spoke, or pretty much shouted, "How could he do that to you?!" Kyle didn't have much to offer in response, so just stayed mute. "Right, well I have some savings so we can use those to pay the electricity, and then you should move in w-"

"What do you mean 'we'?" Kyle interjected, "Stan these are my problems, I can sort them. I just wanted a friendly ear and some support, not the great and mighty Stan to come riding to the rescue..."

Stan looked taken aback for a split second, but got himself back together quickly. "So do you have a plan then?" he asked. Kyle could tell he was hurt by his outburst a second ago, but to be honest he had avoided telling Stan before for this very reason: he'd want to 'save' Kyle like he was some weak, helpless idiot.

"Not yet, but I'll think of something." He replied, an almost angry expression framing his green eyes as he stared at the infuriating boy in front of him, who was making him so angry he could scream, but who at the same time still made Kyle nervous and unavoidably desperate to try to impress him, please him, make him laugh.

"I can't just do nothing while you're living like this Kyle! It doesn't look like you have it under control, so let me help you." Stan was giving him his full on pleading look at this point, "I have a decent job, I have some money saved away and it would at least be a start…"

"You think you're so fucking perfect don't you?" Kyle was seriously angry now and recently (well, as of this morning) he hadn't been very good at controlling himself in these situations. "You and your stupid little job, and your life in New York, you think you're so much better than me don't you?"

"No, Kyle, of course I don't think tha-" Stan started, but didn't get far.

"No listen. I can take care of myself. You don't get to come back here after months and try and fix everything. My life isn't your business, not anymore. I know you're trying to help, and I'm sure you mean well, but I don't want it. I was supposed to be successful, I worked so hard, and now you think I'm a fucking charity case! Just leave me alone for a while." Strangely Stan didn't argue, but just got up and headed for the door. Kyle was pretty sure he had hurt him badly with that speech, but he told himself it was for the best, Stan needed to learn that he couldn't control everything. Kyle watched as Stan turned to look at him once more, his eyes marked with confusion, before sighing and walking out the door. Kyle just slammed his head against the kitchen table, and for the first time in a long time he started to cry. It turned into almost full on sobbing on the kitchen table as everything seemed to catch up with him at last. He had been strong for so long, and now he had argued with his best friend – the boy he cared more about than anyone else in the world – and he felt hideously alone for the first time.

Stan was sitting on the step outside Kyle's house, unable to move. He and Kyle never fought like that.v Stan felt like the further apart they got the more he realised he needed Kyle, that his fantasies were more than just lustful curiosity. He didn't know how Kyle felt beyond the fact that he probably hated him now, and he would do anything to change that. He would just have to do whatever it took to show Kyle that he didn't think he was a charity case, but he just wanted to have his friend back. Thinking about everything Kyle had been through, taking everyone else's debt and suffering so much for it, Stan was fuming. He deserved better, and Stan needed his friend back before he could even begin to think about something more with him. There was one person who was to blame for this, and Stan was going to put things right. He got up and started walking down the drive away from Kyle's house, all confusion in his mind replaced with a cold determination.

"You're fucking dead, Token."

_So there you have it! It's actually the first chapter I don't hate. Apologies for the length, it's almost double the last one (they seem to be growing exponentially?!). The fact that a few people have followed this story is awesome – it might not seem like a lot to most people but it means a lot to me! As always please let me know what you thought, and enjoy the weekend!_


	4. Old Ways and Old Friends

Jesus tap-dancing Christ it was cold. The trees above him were moving gently, getting closer together then pulling apart, and everything was…turning. Or maybe he was the one turning, he couldn't be sure. Stan pulled himself up slowly, until he was sitting, leaning back on his elbows. He was at Stark's pond, and it was early morning. Shit, he was freezing. He didn't even try to remember how he'd got here, he just pulled out his phone - thank fuck that hadn't been stolen while he lay here - and sent Kenny a text. On the bright side he wasn't hungover yet, he was still quite drunk and if he wasn't so fucking frozen he'd probably still be in a nice buzz.

There was an early morning frost on the ground, which wasn't unusual in March, and temperatures at night were perilously cold. Stan could barely even move his fingers to send the text as they were curled up and numb; he felt like if he hadn't woken up when he did he might have died out here. Well maybe not, but he had never felt cold like it. Actually that was a good thing though wasn't it? It's when you feel hot that you're in real trouble...he was pretty sure he remembered that from somewhere. The text he sent was barely decipherable - he had mashed at his phone until something only vaguely resembling 'Stark's pond' was written - but hopefully it was enough to get Kenny there. A couple of attempts to stand up were quickly abandoned, so he just tucked his hands under his arms to try and keep his fingers from dropping off and sat tight. A small chunk of last night's events surfaced in is mind, as he remembered his argument with Kyle, and then wandering around after realising he had no idea where Token lived anymore since his parents sold the massive-ass mansion. Thank fuck he hadn't found Token, that was definitely a positive. How that led to him lying on his back in a public place pissed out of his mind was another story. An all too familiar feeling crept up from his stomach at that point, and Stan turned onto his side and threw up on the frosty grass. He then dry heaved a couple of times before lying back, more than a little disgusted with himself. He was on a bank about a dozen yards from the water, and at the foot of the bank was an empty bottle of Bell's whiskey. Well that was one mystery solved anyway; he had bought that at Denver airport in the duty free, knowing he would need it to survive living at home again. Possible reasons for the drink weren't exactly difficult to come by either, seeing as Kyle hated him, he was living with his parents and nobody really wanted him here. He was such an idiot sometimes, thinking that he could run away from his problems and everyone here would welcome him back with open arms. He had spent god knows how long trying to leave them behind, trying to fit in with everyone in New York. It wasn't that people weren't nice there, some of them really were, it was just him. He didn't want to go clubbing with them, he didn't want to listen to their jokes or bitch about their boss together, he didn't want to be there. In reality he hadn't been trying to fit in at all, he had been trying to blend in, to seem like part of the crowd to avoid being asked questions or actually having to engage with them. Now he was back where he thought maybe he had belonged all along and he felt alone here too, like a stranger in his own town. He battled down a second wave of nausea just as he saw some beaten up vans appear by the side of his head.

"You fucking idiot, Stan! C'mere" Kenny wrapped his arms under Stan's and hauled him up, leaning the larger boy against him and beginning to edge down the bank.

"s-sorry, Ken" Stan slurred, but his mind was struggling to stop thinking about how alone he felt, even while being held by another person.

"What were you thinking? I didn't know you were still doing this, Stan..." Kenny stumbled a little as he spoke, but quickly regained himself and carried on walking.

Stan didn't reply. He was past that phase of his life - the worst phase - where he had to drink just to keep going, but he still needed it sometimes when things got really bad. He was manoeuvred into the passenger seat and strapped in, before Kenny produced a bucket and put it on his lap.

"If you chuck up over my truck I'm leaving you by the side of the road, that's a fucking promise." With that Kenny began driving them back, eyeing Stan warily from time to time without saying anything. He was either concerned for him or concerned for the truck. Most probably the second, Stan thought.

"Why did you do it?" He asked again eventually. Stan was mistaken, he could tell from the tone of Kenny's voice that he was actually worried, and he didn't seem angry enough at having to get up and drive to get him at this time on a weekday morning.

"Fun." He was being awkward, but he was in no fit state to seriously discuss his feelings. The movement of the truck was churning his unsettled insides and speaking felt like an effort. A monster headache was rearing its ugly head as well, as he was sobering up. Normally you wake up to a hangover, but there's something worse about being awake to feel it develop. He responded to some insult Kenny hurled at him with a groan and projectile vomiting into the bucket on his lap. Luckily it was pretty well aimed, as he didn't want to upset his helper any more than he already had done. He only just noticed that at some point Kenny had given him his coat - actually he must have brought an old coat with him as he was still wearing his - and Stan would have been filled with nostalgia upon realising it was his orange parka if his senses weren't already entirely consumed by his hangover and the taste of sick. It was quite small, Kenny had never bought a new one after he turned about sixteen, and it was such a symbol of their childhood and every happy thought and naive hope Stan had felt that it only added to his nausea.

He must have drifted off at some point on the car ride, because he woke up in a warm bed with only a small recollection of being helped up the stairs in a sleepy trance. He had no idea what time it was, but his feeling was that it was late. He felt like shit, and his fingers still hurt for some reason. There were a couple of tablets and a glass of water on the bedside table, but as Stan reached over he was horrified to see the tips of a couple of his fingers were a deep purple, almost black colour. He had gotten fucking frostbite. Jesus he was a moron, but it didn't look too bad; he had seen it once before when his dad had stayed outside his failed blockbuster's store in the freezing snow for hours, and his had been worse and healed up. He swallowed the tablets and took a few swigs of water before looking around properly at what must be Kenny's bedroom, since it was a one-bed apartment. That realisation made him freak out for a second at the thought of what might have gone on in that very bed, but it was too late to fix now. The room was very Kenny, quite cheery colours (a blue/white theme) and no real posters or pictures on the walls; instead there were unusual and funny newspaper headlines and some exotic items Kenny had collected on his travels (including a sign warning of 'Kangaroos on the road' which he must have picked up in Australia). Stan envied the fact that Kenny had done six months of travelling after high school and had managed it without any money, hitching rides and working odd jobs everywhere he went to afford flights and living costs, and seeing the world. Eventually Stan hauled himself up and saw some jeans and a t-shirt left out for him (which reminded him Kenny must have had to help him out of his damp clothes, another embarrassing drunken moment).

Stan edged the door open and stepped into the living area/kitchenette. He remembered it well from last time he had visited, and it hadn't changed at all except there was a blond woman sitting on the couch.

"Head hurt much sweety?" She laughed. She had a real sort of twang to her accent, reminding Stan vividly of Carol, which was weird to say the least.

"I've had worse. Thanks for letting me stay, and I'm really sorry about it all..." He had to admit she was attractive. Really attractive, but in the way a beautiful painting or a picturesque mountain view is, not in the I-want-to-screw-your-brains-out way. To be honest Stan couldn't remember the last time a girl had made him feel that way. He had spent the last couple of years admitting to himself that he was at least bi-curious, but if seeing a woman who was clearly conventionally attractive wearing a fairly low-cut top did nothing for him then maybe even that was living in denial.

"It's fine, Stan. I'm Cassidy, by the way, it's real great to finally meet you." She placed her hand on Stan's shoulder.

"You too, I've heard a lot about you. Is Kenny at work?" He asked as he took a closer look at her. She looked about 5ft 2 or 3, and had shoulder length, straight blond hair and a petite figure, but with larger tits than you'd expect. Exactly the sort Kenny always goes for. He couldn't quite tell if they were fake or not, they were within the realms of possibility, even for a girl of her build. Even though she had a nice smile and only wore a little too much make up, Stan didn't think she seemed genuine for some reason, though he was probably being unfair.

"Yeah he left about three hours ago, I work an evening shift on Friday's so I'm still hangin' around. You want some cereal?" She pulled a bowl out and some boxes from the cupboard as she spoke, and when Stan opened his mouth to politely decline and get out from under her feet she pre-emptively stopped him.

"Hunny you need some food in you, painkillers and water won't settle that stomach - I would know. Now sit down and eat something." She pulled a chair from the breakfast bar out and stood there for a couple of seconds until Stan relented. To be fair he and Kenny shared a similar love of childish cereals, so the choice of Fruit Loops, Cookie Crisp and Coco Pops was exactly what he was craving. If he had been alone he would probably have mixed all three, but it would just have to be Fruit Loops for now (though he made a mental note to stock up on cereal himself).

The kitchen was an off-white colour and in need of a refurb; the chair he was sitting on had a wobble and the units looked a little beaten up. As you came into the apartment you entered the living room, and the kitchen was in a sort of mini-alcove to your left. A big, forty plus inch TV dominated the room, which shared the kitchen's paint scheme but had a nice weathered wooden floor. Maybe that sort of floor was lurking under the manky blue carpet back at his place in New York, but he was far lazier and less talented at DIY than Kenny so he'd probably never find out.

"I'm gonna go take a shower, holler if you need anything." Cassidy swayed her hips exaggeratedly as she walked, enough to make Stan think it might be for his benefit, but he hoped not.

"Oh well I'll take off in a sec, so see you soon and thanks again." Stan smiled at her and she threw him a wave before disappearing into the bathroom. If Stan knew Kenny's type - and she looked like Kenny's type - then she would be a temporary fixture of this place. Attractive and probably kinky as hell in the bedroom, usually pretty easy going as well, but not what someone like Kenny needed. Kenny was damn smart, despite his struggles with school and grades. Stan knew it but he wasn't sure how many other people did. He was curious and quick witted, but he stayed away from women who might be a match for him like the plague. He needed someone to challenge him, or at least that was Stan's opinion. He took off his amateur psychiatrist hat and finished off his cereal before heading out; he needed to see a doctor about his fingers, which he had skilfully hidden either at his side or in his pocket to avoid worrying Cassidy. This had all been a welcome distraction (even the frostbite in a way), but once it was sorted he had some urgent business to attend to.

"Hi guys" Kyle stepped inside and hugged his parents in turn.

"How is my bubbeleh?" Sheila enveloped him in an enormous hug, and when Kyle felt breathless he realised just how in need of bulking up he was.

"I'm fine, where's Ike?" Kyle missed Ike the most, and his parents had moved way outside of town when they sold the house as everything was cheaper out here. Without a car it meant seeing Ike was a more occasional thing, a lengthy bus ride away.

"He went to a friend's house after school, I told him to go have fun and we'd take him to see you soon." Gerald grabbed Kyle's coat and gloves and hung them over a banister. "How is work going?"

"It's the same really, boring but it has to be done. Hopefully I'll find something better soon…" His dad always wanted to talk about work, and Kyle was acutely aware that he had hoped to discuss law or business with his son, not how many people he rung up to harass about home insurance. Kyle didn't want to mention the suspension either, since although he had come here to – if he was perfectly honest – see if he could perhaps get help from his parents, he had realised as soon as he got there he couldn't go through with it. Actually being reminded of the shitty, tiny house they lived in now, basically a glorified shed with just three rooms and one bed made him feel too bad already.

"How will you find a better job when you have to work all the time already?" Sheila asked as she set out three plates for dinner. "It's just so terrible!"

"I'll figure it out mom, don't worry." That was a completely vacuous statement, especially considering Kyle had spent most of the last 12 hours intermittently sobbing and raging, eating whatever handful of items he'd actually had in his freezer before they went bad without the power. He was pretty sure this was rock bottom; it could only get better from here. He wasn't falling into the old movie cliché of thinking that just before it starts pissing rain down on your head either, as metaphorically speaking that storm was already happening; he was at his parents' house purely to scrounge a free meal, he still hadn't gotten electricity back and (probably most importantly) he had driven away his best friend. He was right, and Stan was being a dick, but still the thought of Stan being angry with him was agony. He had loved the time they had spent just relaxing before everything had to turn sour, and Kyle had to admit it was partly his fault. He was pretty sure he had actually worked the problem out but just couldn't fix it. For his whole life he had been strong minded, independent and able, but now he was weak and needy. The thought that not only did he crave Stan, get excited at his touch and captivated just by looking at him, or the way his lips move as he laughed, but that he might actually need him to help with this as well was too much. He didn't like that anyone could have that kind of power over him and be oblivious, carrying on living a fucking perfect comfortable life while he suffered. Kyle realised his dad was giving him a concerned look because he'd spaced out a little, so he just smiled and walked through to the tiny cupboard of a kitchen to see if his mom needed help.

He tried his best to make the dinner uneventful and avoid awkward questions, and he mostly succeeded barring a couple from his mom on his lack of girlfriend. He was fairly sure his parents suspected he might be gay (after all he had shown no interest in women for about year after year) but he had never actually said it out loud to anyone, not even Kenny who just seemed to have eventually worked it out for himself. After protracted goodbyes and a promise to arrange to meet up with Ike he finally got out of the house and began walking to the bus stop, since despite his protests his dad had sold the car the last time a loan had been critically overdue. He had refused their offer again of moving in, since at the moment at least he didn't have to pay rent (the house belonged to one of his dad's clients who owed him a favour) and they were just too far away from his work. Anyway fitting one more person into that house would be a challenge for a Tetris master it was so small. He felt his phone buzz in his front pocket, and was a little disappointed when it wasn't from Stan. Stan always apologised on the rare occasions they fought; he knew Kyle was far too stubborn to back down, but this time he had still heard nothing. Maybe Stan being mad was a good thing anyway, since he was only around for a month and it would only pointlessly inflame Kyle's stupid infatuation. He was fed up of spending weeks missing Stan, and fed up of the ridiculously in depth imaginary scenarios that seemed to be constantly running in his head, where Stan felt the same way after all and they share a passionate kiss. He had imagined what sharing an apartment would be like, or if they ran off on some sunny holiday together, as well as picturing in a million different ways what it would be like in bed. Thinking about how big Stan is or what a not-drunken kiss with him might taste like occupied a large amount of his working day, and that would maybe be helped if this fight was terminal for their friendship. After all, he had been pretty cruel and Stan is ridiculously sensitive for someone as jocky and masculine as he is. That was one of the things Kyle loved most about him though, and he felt guilty for hurting him even if it was quite deserved.

**Had a great idea since Stan and Token are back. School reunion. Organising now** – Kenny

Oh for fuck's sake, that was the last thing he needed at the moment.

**Awful idea, please god no** – Kyle

**Don't be such a killjoy wet-bag, Broflovski** – Kenny

**Seriously I'd rather spend an evening being waterboarded** – Kyle

**Too late, sent invitations. It will be fun I promise!** – Kenny

He remembered then what he had said about not falling into the trap of 'nothing could get any worse' too soon. The metaphorical thunderstorm of shit was now looming as well in the form of an evening of embarrassment and laughter behind his back, with his old class mates and his current boss having a great joke at his expense. Look at the kid who thought he was smart, the kid who scored well in tests and corrected grammar.

Things can always get worse.

_So I know that was both late and a little crap, but I had a very busy week! Also I forgot a disclaimer, so as usual I own nothing. Finally a quick thank you to all who have followed or supported this story, I have big plans for it! In particular nemo1934 who has been hugely encouraging and helpful. Next chapter should be up fairly soon if all goes to plan! ciao_


	5. Desperate Measures

"Just kiss and make up." Kenny bluntly stated, reaching up to a top shelf to rearrange boxes of drill-bits. "You aren't back for long and I don't want you going back to New York all butt-hurt that you spent your month here fighting with Kyle."

"I know man, I'm happy to apologise, I just don't think he'll accept it." Stan countered. He knew Kyle's stubbornness all too well and this had been one of their worst ever fights, hence why he was standing in the hardware store talking to Kenny fairly early on a Saturday morning instead of lying in bed.

"You won't know unless you try. Look, Cassidy is out tonight so I'll get some beers in and invite Kyle over. You try and apologise to him today and if he's still being difficult I can bully him into coming." Stan laughed at the idea of Kenny 'bullying' anyone, but he knew full well that he would be able to twist Kyle's arm and make him come.

"Okay deal, I'll do my best grovelling and see where it gets me." Stan replied, after which Kenny reached down from the step ladder he was on to offer a confirming handshake.

"Great, now as nice as this little chat has been I do have a lot more work to do - we're running a stock check this afternoon and most of the drooling undead that we call our staff can't be trusted alone for more than five minutes. Power tools and dangerously low IQs are a risky combination..." Kenny hopped down and folded up the ladder before heading off down the aisle.

"OK, see you tonight Ken." Stan called after him, and Kenny gave him a little wave over the shoulder in return before disappearing round the corner.

Stan had to then rush across town to make his planned meeting with Butters, but was surprised to find the blond boy wasn't on time either. Inexplicably he ordered a white coffee while he waited; Stan wasn't much of a coffee drinker at the best of times, so why order something so boring? He had avoided anything with a caramel or mint flavour in the name - anything that actually appealed to him – as no one at work took things like that into the office, it was all espressos and black coffee. Yuck. Kyle likes black coffee, he thought. Consultancy really was dull, but he felt like he had to come to terms with the fact that this was his life now, and where better to start than with getting used to the taste of plain coffee. At that moment he caught sight of the person he had been waiting for walking through the door, looking a little flustered and hot from running. He got up to offer Butters a handshake but was rebuffed as the blond pulled him into a hug.

"Sorry I'm late Stan, we had a leak in our bathroom and I had to get a plumber in before I could leave the house." Butters said as he walked with Stan up to the counter to get himself a drink. Looking at him more closely Butters did look a little rough; he was really thin (well he had always been pretty slim, but now it was very noticeable) and looked paler and more tired than the last time Stan saw him.

"Don't worry about it, it was just ten minutes dude." Stan replied, sitting back down. Butters had ordered a latte, and was now looking down at it with a concentrated expression, clearly weighing up whether it was safe to drink yet or required more time to cool off.

"Besides, who's 'we'? You still at your parents place?" Stan asked, hoping it didn't sound sneering or anything, he just assumed Butters still would be.

"No, I live with my boyfriend in one of the apartments off the town centre." Stan had to admit he was a little surprised to hear that.

"Err, quite near Kenny if that helps?" Butters then added when he saw Stan hadn't grasped where he was talking about.

"Oh right, I know where you mean. That sounds nice, what's this boyfriend like then?" Stan was still quite impressed with the ease Butters had just come out to him. Clearly he was out generally, but telling an old class mate is a daunting thing for most people isn't it? It would be to him anyway, he knew that much.

"He's real great, gee I'm the happiest I've ever been Stan." Butters brushed a loose strand of blond hair away from his face as he spoke; his hair was still just a mess of wiry yellow sitting on top of his head, with minimal evidence of any attempt to do anything with it.

"That's awesome, I'm happy for you man." Stan quickly added when he realised he'd been silent for a little too long.

"How are things with you? Kenny's always mentioning how great you're doing, y'know, with your work and all..." The way it was phrased seemed a little odd, like Butters knew he wasn't doing all that great already.

"Yeah it's...okay, I'm glad to be back though." Stan replied, unsure that either of the statements were true. He wasn't sure he liked the direction the conversation was going in (he had hoped to avoid discussing his own life completely if he was honest) and so he thought he would try to move things back to Butters.

"I hope you don't take this the wrong way dude, but you look a little…run down?" He sort of raised his voice at the end to make it seem like a question rather than just a nasty comment, and Butters was the sort of person he felt he could be quite frank with.

"Oh, well I was pretty ill for a bit, but I'm better now. It was quite a while ago but I guess my body is still getting back to its old self." Stan watched Butters look down as he replied, moving his coffee cup in little circles on the table.

"Jesus Butters, why didn't you say anything? What was wrong?" Stan asked, leaning forwards a little. "If I'm not being too prying obviously…" He then added, since if he hadn't been told about this already he figured there may well be some reason for it.

"I had a really bad case of pneumonia, don't really know how I got it…" Butters took a sip from his latte before continuing, "It took a couple weeks in hospital then another few weeks at home to get better, but I feel good again now." He smiled at Stan in an attempt to cement this point with body language.

"Why d'you think Kyle or Kenny didn't tell me?" Stan asked, more than a little surprised that a lengthy hospital stay of one of his friends had gone unmentioned.

"I'm not sure either of them knows to be honest. I haven't kept in contact with them much without you around." Butters answered, and it made Stan reflect on how badly their little group of friends had held together after high school; only he spoke to Butters and this was a rare occurrence; Christ knows when anyone last spoke to Cartman.

"I guess Kyle has quite a lot to worry about himself at the moment…" Stan finally responded, trying hard not to make a stupid face as he swallowed more of the foul tasting coffee. "I'm glad you're better anyway."

"Thanks. Are you worried about Kyle? I mean, is he okay?" Butters asked, now taking his turn to lean forward and look concerned.

"I'm really not sure," supplied Stan, "He's struggling badly with money and he seems really distant and depressed. Sometimes he's really normal then other times he's a completely different person."

Butters had a real knack at getting people talking earnestly, but Stan had decided that he wasn't going to relate the events with Kyle and Token to him, as Butters may know where the 'Mr Black' in question was staying, and that was something Stan was keen to find out. If Butters suspected that was for any questionable purpose it would be much more difficult to get him to talk.

"I'm worried about him too. He's smart though Stan, he can sort it out I'm sure." Butters tried to placate him with the naively hopeful statement and a small smile, but it wasn't going to work.

"I don't know. It's not like it's a normal problem he's facing dude, but I hope you're right." Stan tried a little half smile back, but he was pretty sure it wasn't convincing.

"So how is everything else?" Stan asked in a lame attempt to move the conversation forwards. He took a look at what Butters was wearing for the first time: a sky blue short-sleeved shirt with the top button undone and a pair of chinos, which screamed 'middle of the road', 'safe' and 'slightly dorky', or at least that was what it made Stan think of.

"Gee, it's going pretty well thanks Stan. I love my job and I finally moved out of my parents' house..." Stan watched Butters' face closely as he said this, looking for any hint of this happiness being faked but finding none.

"That's great. Are you still a teaching assistant at the school then?" Stan mentally crossed his fingers and hoped he was right in thinking that was what Butters had been doing the last time they spoke.

"Actually not anymore, that was just temporary. I'm taking over from Mr Mackey as school counsellor in two weeks when my training finishes." From watching Butters' face as he spoke Stan could tell he was clearly over the moon at this new role, and that actually cheered Stan up a little, seeing him so happy.

"You'll make a kick-ass counsellor, Butters." He said, giving him a clichéd friendly pat on the shoulder.

"Thanks Stan, I figured because er, I was always sort of trying to help people with their problems, and I kinda enjoyed it, maybe this was for me. Then Mr Mackey said he was retiring so it just was perfect." Butters could clearly talk about his new job all day, except he had finished his latte and was looking a little fidgety, like he had somewhere to be.

"Are we getting another one or do you need to head off?" Stan asked, sort of knowing the answer already. Though he was only halfway through his own seemingly endless tub of brown muck he wasn't planning on holding the blond there much longer.

"I can't stay long I'm afraid, I said I'd meet…" there was an awkward pause as if Butters had been about to use a name but thought better of it, "…my boyfriend in about ten minutes."

"Okay, just give me a couple minutes to finish this…" Stan gestured to the drink in his hand and took a very small sip.

"I hear Token is back in town…" He then added, getting to the crux of what he wanted to know. "It'd be nice to catch up with him, do you know whereabouts he's staying?" Butters would definitely know, he would never have let an old classmate come back without having gotten in touch with them. Apart from Cartman, obviously.

"Oh, well he's staying in the Peak Hotel I think, while he house hunts. It sure is nice of you to go see him Stan, I'm sure he's a little lonely being back after so long." Trust Butters to make him feel a little guilty without even trying. Oh well, he wasn't planning on an angry confrontation with Token now anyway.

"And you're sure you just want to have a catch up with him? It isn't anything to do with him being Kyle's boss?" So he had smelt a rat, big surprise. Stan and Token never really got on that well through school, even though Stan did try. It was probably because they were both perceived as sort of alpha-males, or as the leaders of two different friend groups.

"Yes Butters, I always liked Token..." Stan said, putting his hands on the table with his palms facing up in some odd gesture of innocence.

"No you didn't! Look Stan, just don't do anything stupid. Don't do anything Kyle wouldn't want you to." Butters implored, giving him the sternest look the hopelessly unfrightening young man could manage. He then moved his hands together as if about to do his trademark knuckle-rub but quickly pulled them apart as he caught himself. It made sense, Stan thought; little nervous ticks from his uncomfortable childhood probably have to go now he's meant to be helping other people with theirs.

"I won't, don't worry so much Leopold. Can I have his number as well? I doubt I can just walk into the hotel and ask for his room…" Stan asked as the pair stood up and began putting on their coats. Reluctantly Butters agreed and texted Stan the number before hugging him goodbye and heading out into the cold, leaving behind him a raven haired boy with a mischievous grin plastered across his face. Phase one of his plan was complete.

X

Kyle woke on Saturday morning in a foul mood. He pulled back his bedroom curtains and stared out, seeing the Rockies even through the thin layer of grime. They were an ever-present, unchanging reminder that he was awake, he was still here. He used to find the sight of them uplifting, like he found solace in reading and old black and white movies, but more and more those things had been squeezed out of his life. Not long ago he could leave everything behind and immerse himself in someone else's world, just for a couple of hours letting his mind be totally occupied with the troubles and hopes of some interchangeable protagonist. Now though everything was too daunting, the real world was unrelenting and books just seemed like some twisted reminder of a previous self. The mountains weren't beautiful, they were violent and ugly, jutting out and piercing the sky like a row of ravenous teeth. Kyle wondered if somewhere on the other side of the planet - maybe the Himalayas or the Urals, or some mountains in Australia - were the other row, and eventually the planet would just fold inwards and the two ranges would clamp together, submerging everyone in between in darkness and taking all their petty dreams and trivial problems with them. He knew if someone could hear his thoughts he would sound like Stan used to, when he was at his most unbearable, but for him it was justified, it was logical.

Kyle didn't have long to stay wallowing in self-pity though, as he had a nice surprise waiting in his mailbox to wake him up. The letter bore the familiar bright red font that haunted him these last few months. He shouted and pulled at his hair with both of his hands, pulling a small clump of almost equally crimson curls off with his fingers. He ran inside. Another shout. He picked up the letter and began tearing at with his hands and throwing the pieces about, kicking and screaming as he did it. The chart he'd painstakingly made which mapped every repayment and when it was due he pulled from the back of the cupboard door it was pinned to and began destroying it with fists, teeth and nails until it was nothing but a collection of tiny white flakes coating the floor. He picked up a glass and moved as if to hurl that as well, but eventually he just lowered his arm. He wanted so much to see it shatter into millions of pretty clear fragments on the floor, but he couldn't get his arm to chuck it. Even at his most furious he was too cautious to do anything actually reckless, and that realisation made him laugh aloud. No one would have thought it odd or unjustified had he broken something or smashed up his shitty house, but the Broflovski inside of him was far too strong, and that actually made him happy.

He set about clearing up the mess, and it was then, as he was piecing the letter back together and throwing away unwanted scraps, that he saw a curled piece of paper poking out from the rest of his trash. As he pulled it out he read the numbers scrawled across the back in blue ink, and then he kept re-reading them, scanning them over and over again like it was some hieroglyphic code. He thumbed at the edges of the receipt, and drummed his fingers on the work top furiously. This was the only choice he had left, he had tried everything else, and as much as he hated himself for it Kyle thought back to what had made him laugh just moments before: he was a Broflovski, and that meant he was sensible, and logical, and could do the right thing even if it seemed unspeakably awful. Maybe he could buy himself enough time to figure a way out of this. It would require him giving up what crumpled remains were left of his pride, he knew that much. Cartman would make him do something humiliating and painful, but he could be the winner from this if he gritted his teeth and showed that he was unfazed by it. Five, maybe ten years down the line he could be a success, and he could turn to Cartman and tell him 'you helped me get here'. That would be a satisfying moment. Once this mess was over the rest of his life could start again, and he could think about trying to date, trying to move on from Stan. Not completely, of course, he had decided some time ago that even if it hurt for the rest of his life to be around Stan he didn't want to give him up as a friend, he just needed to try and find someone that could love him, and hope that maybe if he spent enough time with them he could feel the same way back. Right now it seemed impossible, but no feeling is forever, right?

Slowly he began to type, his fingers not trembling but stiff and reluctant, and twice he had to start again after just a few digits when he'd lost his nerve and wiped them from the screen. He stared at the completed number for a while, and thought about trying to come up with a plan of how to handle the conversation. He stood there for ten minutes just staring, and no scenario with that phone call ended anything short of atrocious. But then, where had his meticulous planning got him so far?

Kyle decided to sit down to calm his nerves, before trying again at punching in the digits and pressing the call button. Again he got cold feet and wiped the number out. Actual hours dragged by like this. He had to go through with this, but it was proving almost impossible to make his fingers carry out the treason. He ran a hand through his hair. Maybe he just needed some help, Kyle reasoned, and began rummaging through his almost bare cupboards. Eventually he found it: a half empty bottle of cheap vodka. Perfect. Kyle took a couple of large swigs from the bottle, squeezing his eyes shut and letting out a little grunt and an involuntary shake as he did so. He really didn't drink often and when he did he tended to avoid hard spirits, probably because he had witnessed up close through Stan what happened when you got involved too deep with those. Though the initial taste (and the aftertaste) was disgusting, he had to admit the warm feeling that travelled down his throat and into his stomach was nice, even if he knew it was caused by the alcohol irritating his insides on the way down. He left it for a couple of minutes before picking his phone up again, and for what felt like the fiftieth time he began entering the number. Then, before his mind had time to object, he pressed call. There was silence for a few seconds and Kyle could feel his heart rate pick up, still not really believing he was doing this.

Then it began to ring.

X

_So there we have it! A couple of days late but there we go. Also I know it's building up slowly but I don't want to rush it, please be patient with me! Thanks to anyone who followed the story or reviewed, it really means a lot and it motivates me to work faster if I know people care about the story._


	6. Plan B

Kyle heard the second ring and his grip on the arm of the couch tightened even more, feeling like if he let go he might lose his grip on earth, or maybe sanity, completely. He couldn't help desperately hoping to hear the noise of another ring rather than the click of Cartman answering at the other end.

The silence was agonisingly long, until his phone suddenly buzzed against his ear, startling Kyle from his state of concentrated nervous energy. Without thinking he reacted by pulling the phone away from his ear and cancelling the call. It was a message from Stan that had interrupted him:

I'm really, really, really sorry about yesterday Kye. I only saw you were suffering and wanted to help, I didn't think about how you really felt. You know me, I'm stupid but I mean well. Please don't be mad at me...*puppy eyes*- Stan

He smiled at his phone; the text had broken all the tension he had worked up, and the anger he had felt seemed far harder to understand now. Sure he had been a little insensitive, but everything he had said had been out of a desire to help him. Kyle wondered if maybe his reaction had been more to do with his own inability to deal with his feelings than anything Stan had said. Also it didn't help that he could actually imagine Stan standing in front of him with puppy dog eyes, and that was damn near irresistible.

Apology accepted. Sorry if I was a little hard on you, I'm a little touchy about this I know.- Kyle

He actually laughed aloud thinking of what Stan's reaction to that text would be; Kyle rarely apologised for anything, and was impressed with how emotionally considerate and self-aware he had managed to be with that reply. He realised he had forgotten something though, so sent another quick message:

Oh, and you're not stupid Stan.– Kyle

**If you say so ;) Are you coming to Kenny's tonight then? **- Stan

After reading that fast reply from Stan, Kyle checked his phone and noticed Kenny had sent him a text at some point inviting him over for a 'guy's night'. He decided he had wasted enough of today already and would put off the dreaded phone call, though only until tomorrow when he would absolutely go through with it. He would one-hundred percent, definitely go through with it.

X

The Peak Hotel was the fanciest hotel in South Park (though that was by no means a hard fought contest), and Stan sent Token a text and waited for him in the lobby, making the most of the little complimentary sweets. When Token finally appeared Stan greeted him with a nod but made no move to accept his offer of a handshake. He could tell Token was unsurprised, and looked incredibly reluctant to be there. Stan just gestured and led him to some seats around the corner in the lobby, where there was a bit of privacy.

"I'm not here for small talk." Stan started, feeling a strange nervousness inside his gut that he wasn't anticipating. "What you did to Kyle was unforgivable."

"If it's unforgivable why are you here? What do you want, an apology or what?" Token asked, pulling the sleeve of his suit up to cover up what looked to Stan like a pretty expensive watch. Stan took that as a good sign, of guilt or embarrassment or something.

"I want you to help him! I don't give a shit if you're sorry!" He took a couple of deep breaths after saying that. Getting angry wouldn't help anyone, and this was about helping Kyle.

"Why aren't _you_helping him?" Token was sitting forwards in his chair as well now, and he and Stan were both leaning across the low coffee table in front of them, speaking in hushed-yet-aggressive voices.

"He won't let me. He doesn't want charity, but you could help him, he deserves more money, he's far too good to be working in that shithole anyway!" Stan decided to try a softer approach at that point, saying, "please Token, you know he's a good guy, don't stand by and let this happen to him." This seemed to have more of an effect, as Token slumped back in his seat with a groan.

"I can't Stan...if I gave him a raise while other employees are getting pay cuts and some might even be made redundant I'd lose my job within the month. Just imagine how it would look, making a massive exception for someone from my old class at school..." He paused briefly and Stan could see he really did care, and I suppose it figured, he should have known Token was no asshole. "I'm sorry, Stan."

"I'll pay." Stan suddenly announced, resorting to his 'plan B'.

"huh?" Token was clearly a little confused by the response, and Stan had to admit finding it a interesting seeing one of the most assured and confident of his old classmates well out of his comfort zone in this discussion. Despite his fancy suit (which was nicer than any Stan owned) and his mature, business-like way of dealing with people (again, something Stan only wished he had), Token was still nervous. Everybody sweats under pressure, Stan mused, laughing inwardly.

"What if I pay you, then you tell Kyle you've rethought and you're giving him a raise?" The plan was sounding better the longer he thought about it; Stan could spare a bit of money and Kyle wouldn't have to even know. It was perfect, actually.

"Err are you sure about that?"

"Absolutely, he's really desperate. But he can't ever know, obviously." Token just nodded in response. "Great, shall we talk details then?"

X

When Kyle got to Kenny's apartment building he saw Stan waiting for him outside, beaming. He was leaning against the wall with his hands stuffed into his jacket pockets, in that casually adorable look he pulls off so well without even trying. Kyle tried to check with his hands that his hair wasn't too unruly and ugly, but when Stan looked over he quickly dropped his arms back down. He walked up and stopped about half a meter in front of his old friend, giving him a small smile. Stan then stepped forward and engulfed him in a hug. It was always Stan who initiated things like that, while Kyle would just stand there awkwardly forever if left alone. He whispered things like 'I'm sorry' and 'I love you, man' into Kyle's ear as they stayed in that position out on the street. They were the mumbled expressions of the love a friend but in Kyle's mind he couldn't avoid imagining them literally, and for about twenty seconds he felt like a fucking king; his brain couldn't process any negative thoughts for once, every neuron was spent just existing at that point in time.

Stan eventually pulled away and Kyle thought for a second that he looked like he was trying to hold back tears, which gave him a horrible feeling of guilt. He forgot too easily the effect his anger could have on Stan, and he tried to think of something reassuring to say like 'I love you too man', or maybe just a sorry back.

"shall we go inside then or are we staying out here all night?" Was what he actually said. It had been much easier by text.

"oh, yeah. sorry." Stan shuffled past him and pressed the 3rd buzzer, for Kenny's apartment on the top floor. The door clicked open and the pair headed up in silence, Kyle mentally kicking himself with each step they climbed. When they reached the third floor Kenny was stood in the open doorway grinning at them.

"What time do you call this?"

He held a six pack in each hand, and from his excited smile Kyle wouldn't bet against him having made a little head start on the drinking. He was still wearing his work uniform, a navy blue polo shirt and dark trousers, but Kenny even managed to make a fairly smart outfit like that look absurdly scruffy.

Once they were inside and sitting down with a beer in hand the tension from outside dissipated fairly quickly, helped massively by Kenny's infectious good mood. Kyle wondered if this guy was ever sad.

"Awful choice of beer dude." Stan laughed as he looked down at his bottle.

"How about this, next time if you wanna choose, you buy the beer!" Kenny retorted, taking a long swig. "Besides, tastes pretty good to me." He added, giving Stan his best goofy grin.

"So first things first, what the hell is this about a school reunion?" Stan asked, raising one eyebrow in the classic 'sceptical look'.

"Well since you and Token are back at the same time I figured why not? It's been pretty much five years since we graduated so it makes sense." Kenny gestured for the two to take a seat on the couch, and tossed Kyle the TV remote.

"Yeah true, I guess it would be nice to see everyone. I just hate that kind of forced socialising I guess..." Stan said, staring down into his bottle.

"I'm sorry, what?" Kyle was a little taken aback by that comment, "I think you're confusing you and me there Stan. If I remember right you and Kenny went to a lot more high school parties than I did."

There was a short pause, before Stan gave Kyle a knowing smile and said, "I only went to get drunk, Kyle," before tipping back the rest of his drink.

Kyle tried not to dwell on that unusual response, instead turning to Kenny and asking, "So where is Cassidy tonight?"

"She's going out clubbing with some girlfriends up in Denver, they've booked a hotel room." Kyle didn't trust his body language reading skills, but if he did he would guess Kenny was trying to look overly casual as he gave that answer.

"Some 'girlfriends'? That's what they all say..." Stan laughed, winking at Kyle, who wasn't fully paying attention. The unbuttoned blue plaid shirt with a white T-shirt underneath that Stan was wearing seemed like they had been thrown together at the last minute, but looked really good with his dark jeans...

"If she wants to get lucky in Denver she can, none of my business." Kenny said, sounding surprisingly serious suddenly.

"You can't mean that!" Kyle interjected, "you live together, that must make you jealous, or upset, or some fucking emotion!"

"Yeah dude, I couldn't handle that, no way." Stan added, backing him up.

"Well not everyone is as up tight as you two pussies!" Kenny retorted, laughing. "Besides, I get to screw around too you know."

"Do you?" Kyle asked, since now they had Kenny talking seriously about his own life for a change he wanted to make the most of it.

"Occasionally. Besides, out of us three who is the only one actually in a relationship?" Kenny said, smirking at them both. "I think if I wanted advice I would go somewhere else before I looked to you two serial loners and relationship sabotagers..." He had faced Kyle as he said the word 'loners' and Stan for 'sabotagers'; Kyle wondered if that meant anything. Did Stan tell Kenny he kept sabotaging his own relationships? Stan hadn't told him that.

"Fair point." Stan laughed, opening another beer and taking a big drink.

"Exactly, now no more boring relationship shit. How are you doing with everything Kyle?" Kenny asked.

"Let's make a deal, we don't bother you with relationship shit tonight, you don't ask me 'how I'm doing' or if 'everything is ok' or if I'm 'coping'. Deal?" Kyle noticed Stan's face fall a little as he said that.

"And what do I get out of this exactly?" Stan interrupted before Kenny could shake Kyle's hand. "Or am I allowed to annoy you both all night?"

"How about we don't do this to you?" Kenny offered, before flicking Stan on the side of the head repeatedly.

"Okay okay deal!" Stan spluttered, raising his arms around his head for protection after Kyle had joined in on Kenny's onslaught.

They had some stupid shark attack show on in the background, and as they relaxed and talked to each other the conversation would be broken up by shouts of 'gross, look at that!' and 'don't go in the water you fuckwit!' as one of them was distracted by it. Kyle had knocked back three or four beers before long, and he couldn't really remember the last time he had had this much fun.

"It really feels like old times you guys. This is great." Kenny said, who was clearly thinking the exact same thing. "You guys wanna get pizza?"

"Yessir, I'm fucking starving." Stan unsurprisingly agreed.

"I'm alright thanks, I ate earlier." In actual fact Kyle was pretty famished, but pizza delivery was a frivolous expense he could in no way afford at the moment.

"Well I'm getting a 16 inch one, so if you change your mind I'm sure I can share a couple slices." Stan said, smiling at him. Kyle wanted to argue with this - Stan knew exactly what he was doing - but for once he kept quiet, as it just wasn't worth ruining a great night.

"So what's New York like? Last time we skyped I remember you were still settling in..." Kyle asked, as Kenny rang for the pizzas.

"Yeah it's good, though I miss being back here a lot. I know I'm lucky though." It seemed to Kyle like Stan was avoiding complaining to him out of fear of sounding spoilt or ungrateful in comparison.

"And no luck on the girl front?" Kyle joked, wiggling his eyebrows up and down suggestively.

"Nope, I think we're both destined to die alone." Stan laughed, "I had a couple of brief disastrous relationships, but I've been single for quite a while. It sucks that we have to catch up like this man, we were really shitty at keeping in touch." He looked pretty serious now, and Kyle had a feeling Kenny had actually completed the pizza order but was pretending to still be in a deep discussion about toppings so he could keep listening in on their conversation. "I guess I just never thought we'd have to ask each other stupid small talk questions to find out what the other has been up to. I mean, we're Stan and Kyle..."

"Yeah, it was mostly my fault I think, I regret not making the time..." Kyle replied, knowing full well it was a question of avoidance not time.

"It takes two to tango dude. I'm sorry too." Kyle watched Stan's fingers furiously picking and pulling the label off the beer bottle as he spoke, a habit he was clearly not able or not trying to shake. "The main thing is that we're fixing it though, right?" His sooty-haired friend continued, looking up at him and smiling.

"Yeah." Kyle replied, trying his utmost not to look into the azure eyes he could feel boring a hole into his skull.

"Wow. So beautiful. I'm not sure if I should be tearing up or chucking up..." Kenny suddenly interjected, startling Kyle a little. He realised that his host had stopped even pretending to be on the phone a little while ago, and must have been listening intently.

"Shut up Kenny," he and Stan said pretty much in unison.

"Hey, I'm just glad to see you two happy." The smaller boy replied, ruffling each of their hair in turn.

The rest of the evening was barely distinguishable from the many the three had shared as teenagers: pizza, beer and a horror movie so awful it was more of a comedy. The only major differences were that there was no requirement to keep the noise down for sleeping parents, and the obvious absence of their old fourth member. Inevitably Kyle found himself stealing glances at Stan whenever he could, just trying to take in as much of him as he could now that they were spending time together again. Every aspect of his face seemed perfect: the strong but understated jaw line, the delicate nose and ears, those stunning bottomless lagoons of eyes and that crooked, mischievous and loveable grin. He managed to be masculine but youthful and boyish looking with it, tough but gentle, strong but compassionate. To Kyle Stan had always been a bundle of contradictions; he had such forceful and complex emotions which seemed to guide him through life, whereas Kyle lived a more automaton-like existence, and the only time he felt really strong emotion it seemed to be something twisted, like pride or jealously. Stan had always been full of love, so much so that for a while it had made him depressed, which sort of summed up his paradoxical character. Kyle hadn't really helped him through that either, he had almost turned his back on him, justifying it as trying to make him snap out of it with tough love when in reality he had wanted to hold his best friend and tell him it would all be okay, but he was too…cold, and awkward, to actually do it. As the evening was winding down Kyle had been counting Stan's alcohol intake, which was at nine bottles compared with his and Kenny's five and six respectively, yet it didn't seem to have fazed him too much. Kyle had 'worked up a good buzz' as Kenny kept putting it, and was a little off dizzy and now drowsy to go with it.

"I need to head home…" He said, standing up slowly.

"You're not going anywhere!" Kenny laughed, "You two can stay here tonight, I'll make you a bed out of couch cushions and I have a spare blanket."

"I'm not drunk, I can walk back jus' fine," Kyle slurred, but Kenny just pushed him back down onto the couch.

"Actually I'm a little tipsy, mind if I stay Ken?" Stan asked, yawning and stretching his arms out above his head.

"I wasn't giving either of you a choice." Kenny replied, pulling the seat cushions off and forming a small mattress-type shape on the floor. "The couch doesn't fold out though. I would let someone share with me, but I have a tendency to grope in my sleep apparently so I think you'll be better off out here…" Both Stan and Kyle nodded furiously at that.

Kenny threw a blanket at the pair and shut his bedroom door, calling out a 'goodnight' from the other side. When Kyle looked back around Stan was already out of his jeans, and was standing only a couple of meters away from him in just boxers. For a second Kyle was worried he would take his shirt off as well and the entire night would be a hot, sweaty torment for him, but instead Stan just climbed under the cover in the makeshift bed.

"You joining me or what?" He asked, propping himself up on one elbow.

Kyle nodded back, pulling off his socks and pants before sliding in next to him. This was exactly the sort of scenario he had been hoping to avoid. Rekindle the friendship and try to stamp out the 'extra' feelings, that had been the plan, but now he was turning away facing the wall trying desperately hard not to think about who was next to him. The sleepovers had become a particular torture for Kyle as their teenage years had worn on, and unusually they hadn't stopped with age. They were Stan and Kyle, it was what they did, and only their little incident and then their separation at college had really ended it. Until now, and he felt seventeen again, struggling to keep his raging hormones in check for the sake of his best friend.

Kyle had a strange feeling he was being watched though, and when he turned around he was met with the two eyes that haunted his every waking thought, wide open and staring at him.

"s-sorry, I just, I was…" Stan whispered, like they used to when their parents were in the next room. "I'm just thinking about how glad I am your back…it was nice, just, looking at you…"

If Kyle wasn't a little drunk he would have sworn Stan's cheeks had filled with a gentle pink colour, and suddenly those blue eyes were avoiding his gaze again.

"It's fine. I missed you too." Kyle whispered back, thankful that tonight the alcohol had helped him say a lot of the more thoughtful things he had wanted to say since Stan had been back.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and as his eyelids were growing heavy and starting to close he felt a soft breath tickle his nose, and then something warm and wet covering his lips. He kept his eyes screwed shut and his body was paralysed in place, totally unaware of how to react. Apart from his own mouth that is, which moved very gently in return out of instinct, before suddenly the sensation was over even faster than it had begun. When he dared to finally open his eyes all he could see was the sloping back of his best friend, but he could hear a ragged and uneven breathing coming from behind it.

X

_I hope you enjoyed that, and just want to say a massive thank you to anyone who has followed, commented or just read the story. It blows me away that anyone would like my shoddy work…_

_I don't own any part of South Park!_


	7. The Morning After

An almighty crash woke Stan with a start, like a clap of thunder inside his ear only higher pitched and more...tinny. Before he could get himself oriented there was another crash, followed by the sound of someone laughing. Stan sat upright, his hands covering his ears, and once his eyes had adjusted to the light he saw a blond boy standing over him holding two saucepan lids and chuckling to himself.

"Fuck you Kenny." He grumbled, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. He wasn't badly hungover (by his standards anyway), but that racket made his head feel like it was going to burst open.

Kenny laughed, "Sorry man, but it was priceless. I needed to get you up and out of here, I got things to do..." he said, gesturing at an imaginary watch on his arm, before continuing, "besides, I forgot how much you loved sleep. If it was an Olympic sport..."

"You always bully me." Stan muttered, standing up and pulling his jeans on. "Why do you always bully me?"

"Sling your hook, Marsh. No one likes you, you stupid nerd!" Kenny laughed, pushing Stan lightly, who still had only one leg in his jeans and had to hop around furiously trying to stay upright.

Once Stan had left Kenny's and had some solitude on the short walk back to the Marsh residence he had time to think about the night before. He still couldn't quite believe he had gone through with it, but he was immensely glad he had. As he'd been lying there staring at the boy next to him he had thought about how this boy - or man he should say now probably - had been his favourite person in the entire world for as long as he could remember. He had been coming to terms with the fact that he might love this boy, and as he'd stared at the fiery red hair that so beautifully encapsulated Kyle's fierce character he had been powerless to resist getting just one taste of the lips he had been unable to forget all these years. His logic had been that if Kyle freaked out or pushed him away he could claim he was drunk and delirious, but if it worked - which he was pretty sure it had, he had felt Kyle move in response - then he had promised himself that he would reveal how he felt to Kyle. Properly, without holding back. He would do it once Token had given him their planned raise tomorrow and his money troubles were alleviated a little, so Kyle would hopefully be happier and more relaxed. Even the thought of doing this sober, and properly, was enough to make Stan's heart race and his vision blur. He got the feeling from somewhere deep within himself that he could live for eighty more years, but tomorrow would still be the most important day of his life.

X

Any other day Kyle would have spent the first few hours simply trying to unscramble his mind after what had happened, but today was no normal day. Actually even today he couldn't stop thinking about it, whether it had been just a drunken mistake or if there was maybe any genuine feeling behind it, but he couldn't afford to let it stop him. He had sent Kenny a quick text explaining that he had to rush off early (well, at around nine O'clock, hardly the crack of dawn but well before either of those two would wake) and now he was just drinking some water and waiting for his hangover to pass and his mind to feel a little less soggy and slow. He set himself a one hour deadline to make the call, worrying that otherwise he would drag it out again like he had yesterday. Once he felt slightly fresher Kyle reached for his phone, and was surprised to find that it was much easier this time; in the extra day his decision had become even more concrete, so the battle of will against fear he had struggled with last time was won decisively and Kyle swiftly dialled the number (which he now knew off by heart, in part because of his good memory, but mainly through sheer repetition).

Once again he was put through the turmoil of waiting for someone to pick up, which was the ultimate excruciating feeling. Compared with this even Russian roulette would feel like a game of Mario Cart. He kept taking deep breaths, in through the nose, out through the mouth. That was meant to help...

"Hello?" A voice suddenly said on the other end. It was instantly recognisable.

"...hi, Cartman?" Kyle said slowly, his mouth suddenly feeling incredibly dry, his tongue almost sticking to the roof of it as he spoke.

"Who is this?" Cartman asked, a slightly agitated tone already present in his voice. "Ey! I said who's calling me?" This was the bit Kyle was really dreading, having to reveal it was him on the other end of the line, and that he was asking - no begging - for help.

"Kahl? Is that you?" The voice said slowly, a mixture of suspicion and disbelief. That made things easier, at least.

"Uh, yeah. I-It's me. Hi Cartman." Kyle stuttered, trying to twirl a pen in his fingers to keep his mind slightly occupied so it couldn't devote itself entirely to feeling total shame.

There was a brief silence, but the laughter or ridicule or whatever that Kyle was expecting (he had just expected something) never materialised.

"Well, what do you want then? You called me remember..." That was a curve ball. He really hadn't expected Cartman to behave so...normally.

"How are you?" Kyle asked, not wanting to jump straight into asking for money without even the pretence of friendliness.

"You didn't call me for small talk, Kahl. Cut to the chase."

"Um...ok. Well, it's just..." Kyle tried desperately to think of the right way of putting this, "I'd heard that you could maybe help me. Like, with money..."

"Well, isn't that surprising." Cartman replied, but to Kyle he didn't actually sound that shocked. "Things must be worse for you than I thought..."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Kyle didn't think Kenny still spoke to Cartman, let alone about him.

There was a breathless chuckle through the phone. "Nothing. Tell you what, Kahl, why don't you come up to Denver and we can talk about this in person. I don't handle business over the phone."

"Ok, can I come this afternoon?"

"Big rush eh? Meet me at three, I'll text you the address." Cartman said, before abruptly hanging up.

Kyle slowly sunk back into his chair, his brain rapidly catching up with the last few moments. To say he felt mixed emotions would be an understatement, but overall, he was happy. He had done something about his situation, and even though it meant bowing down to Cartman of all people, he actually felt like he had some small level of control over his own life again. Just then his phone buzzed, and Kyle held it up to read the address:

**8 Tremont Place, Five Points** - 720-632-7691

Eugh, Five Points was rough, Kyle was hardly surprised Cartman chose some seedy location there. The whole thing made him really suspicious, but mainly the way Cartman had acted; he had been blunt but not rude, and the lack of ridicule and humiliation didn't seem right. Maybe Cartman had just grown up, and since by the sounds of it he was a professional...um...money lender, he had bigger things to worry about than high school grudges. But maybe not. This was Eric Cartman, and a polite Cartman was the most unnerving thing of all.

X

Stan's dedicated session of cartoon watching was interrupted by the sound of the door opening, so he couldn't hold in the typically teenage sigh as he looked over.

"So Shelly is coming home next weekend." His mom made her way over and sat down next to him, which meant this wasn't going to be brief. Great.

"Oh, okay." It wasn't that Stan was annoyed she was coming home, he just wasn't exactly excited either. His and Shelly's relationship had really flourished with distance, and when they spoke they managed to be pretty civil, which was damn impressive considering how bad they'd been once. Maybe if Stan moved to Australia they'd actually have a functional brother-sister relationship.

"What are you watching?"

"Dexter's Lab." Stan didn't feel any shame saying that out loud; sometimes you just need cartoons.

"Oh I remember this one!" She said a little too excitedly. "Something about that kid always reminded me of Kyle..." Excellent, just the stomach churning topic he had been trying to hide from for the last four hours. Stan gave a half-hearted laugh anyway, though he couldn't see any similarity. They're both smart, he thought, but that's about it.

"Is everything okay sweety? You seem really quiet..."

"Yeah mom, I'm fine. Just tired is all." Stan was lying sprawled out on the couch under a blanket, watching kids TV. Thinking about it, this was exactly the position he always adopted if he was ill or upset, so that did sort of explain the questioning.

"So it's nothing to do with Kyle?" Sharon was giving him her full on 'there's something you're not telling me' look.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Stan asked, finding himself getting a little defensive. He put down the bag of Cheetos he'd been working through and muted the TV.

"Just that you haven't seen very much of him since you've been back." There was a pause while she seemed hesitant, before continuing, "You used to be inseperable, and I was expecting to barely see you because you'd be with Kyle all the time..." She was clearly choosing her words carefully, but Stan stayed quiet. "It's not that we don't like you being around the house, we really do, we're just worried."

Stan couldn't help but smirk a little at that. 'We're worried'. This didn't have any of Randy's fingerprints on it, this was a Sharon-only concern.

"I'm fine, really. There's no problem with me and Kyle." This was too much, he hated getting grilled from people who are worried or 'just care about you', especially when it came to him and Kyle. For as long as Stan could remember it had annoyed him when people asked anything about his relationship with Kyle; it was unique and the whole way through school he had never seen people who knew each other and cared for each other as much as they did. They could never even begin to understand, so why ask?

"I'm gonna go see Kenny." Stan said, moving to get his coat. He was finding the house increasingly claustrophobic, and he didn't have the will power to go around acting as if he wasn't in a state of mental and emotional chaos just to avoid questioning from his worried mother. Everything was fucked up now, and Stan had accepted it can never go back to the way it was as a kid, but that didn't mean his brain wasn't basically imploding at the thought of confronting Kyle tomorrow.

"Didn't you just come back from Kenny's this morning?"

"Yeah, but he's starting to get ready for the reunion thing he's planning, so I said I'd lend a hand." Stan replied, thinking that if Kenny was busy he could just go for a walk or something and try to clear his head.

"Oh I remember you mentioning that. Well, have fun. I'm surprised at Kenny organising all that, he never struck me as the type..." That elicited a chuckle from Stan. Kenny really wasn't the type, the whole thing was fucking bizarre.

Half an hour later Stan found himself standing in the spirits aisle of South Park's liquor store with one Kenny McCormick, who had surprisingly actually wanted to work on his ridiculous reunion plan.

"Are you gonna pay for all this Ken?" Stan was looking down at the cart chocked full of crates of beer as well as about six bottles of spirits.

"Yeah, but I figure I'll ask people for a contribution when they get here. I haven't really thought that far ahead. I guess since this is just an unofficial reunion that's just part of it. Fuck the school for refusing to help man." Stan laughed; it had only been five years since they left so he hardly blamed the school for not caring.

"How many people do you reckon will show?" There were only about six at most that Stan was at all interested in seeing.

"Not many, like fifteen maybe? People can bring dates so maybe more."

"That's a lot of booze then dude." Stan said, laughing. Fifteen people would be ruined if they finished all that.

"Yeah, we're gonna get fucked!" Kenny replied with a grin. Stan noticed for the first time that Kenny had a small cut above his eye. He had thought it was weird that Kenny had worn a hat today, a black beanie, but now he wondered if he'd been trying to hide it; he only noticed it when the hat was pulled up a little.

"What happened to your head dude?" Stan gestured at the mark as the pair filed into the line for the checkout, behind an old lady clutching a bottle of whiskey like her life depended on it.

"Oh this?" Kenny felt the small line with his finger. "I hit my head when I was looking for something under the bed. Hurt like a bitch but it's nothing big."

"Oh right." Stan replied, helping him haul crates out of the cart. Kenny actually had some muscle on him now; Stan had always been the only one with any real muscle mass in their group (from sport rather than being a gym enthusiast), so he was glad to see Kenny could probably give him a run in an arm wrestle now. It was probably down to heavy lifting at work, and the fact that for the first time Kenny actually had enough to eat.

"Ken," Stan started once they were back in the pickup, "Kyle is, y'know, gay, right?" He realised he didn't actually know this for sure, but he felt like he just knew the answer was yes.

"How the fuck should I know?" Kenny replied. "If he hasn't told you he won't have told me. I haven't seen him interested in a girl for the last three years, but I haven't seen him interested in any guys either..."

"Right, but you think he is?" Stan probed, hoping to get a confidence boost about this whole thing. He realised that since he had been living in denial and had been in a couple of short, awful relationships that Kyle probably thought he was straight...

"I'm not getting involved dude. Kyle's preference is his business, I'm not gonna go guessing at it for your curiosity." Kenny said, looking sort of serious all of a sudden.

"Sorry. I just wish I could understand him better. I should know, he should tell me or it should be obvious or something, I don't-"

"Dude, chill. Your still Stan and he's still Kyle. Whatever your gut tells you, that's probably right."

X

From the outside it didn't actually look too bad. The building was just a little run down, but it wasn't the gloomy abandoned warehouse Kyle was sort of expecting. It seemed to be an old shop or restaurant or something, because he could see a sign above the door but the lettering had faded. The windows were blocked by old dust curtains, and there was little sign of any human presence inside. Countdown from twenty, then go in; that was meant to help.

20...19...18...17...16...fuck this, 3, 2, 1. As he reached out to knock the door swung open though, and in front of him stood one Eric Cartman, wearing a full suit and tie. He looked squeezed into the white shirt, but to be fair Kyle could imagine many stores didn't even have sizes for someone that big.

"Hi." Kyle said. He had forgotten just how massive Cartman was, at least six foot three and wide as hell; most of it was just broad bones and muscle, but he wasn't skinny either. He blocked the doorway entirely, looking like a fucking human wardrobe or something.

"Come on in." He said, standing out of the way and holding the door open. Inside was very poorly lit, but he could see now that it was an old restaurant, with some tables and chairs scattered around still. It was empty, bar one bald guy covered in tattoos sitting quietly in a corner.

"Come through this way and we'll talk, there's someone you need to meet. Oh, and by the way, don't piss anyone off with smart ass comments, you might regret it." Cartman said, but it came off as a little bit gleeful rather than a friendly warning. Kyle had the overwhelming urge to just turn and run out the door, and just keep running until all of this was miles behind him.

Cartman led him up some stairs and knocked on a door on the first floor, and after hearing some reply too faint for Kyle to make out he opened the door and ushered him in.

"You must be Mr Broflovski, please come in, sit down." Said a man in his thirties, again in a suit and with slicked back brown hair, who was pointing to a seat on the other side of his desk. He had imagined Cartman as a sort of work-alone loan shark, not as part of some gang, or weird Denver mafia family or something like that. It was actually pretty funny, especially since Kyle could clearly tell this guy, with his mobster wannabe outfit, was Cartman's boss. Hopefully he ordered Cartman around like a dog.

"Hi, nice to meet you...?" Kyle replied, but his hopes of finding out this guy's name ended pretty soon as he ignored the question completely.

"So what can we help you with?"

"I was told by someone that you could maybe help me, with money problems." Kyle said, surprised at how confidently it came out. Maybe he was getting used to the whole 'humiliating yourself in front of people' thing.

"What sort of figure are we talking?" He asked, standing up and lighting a cigarette. Kyle got a proper look at him, and he looked fairly short, slim and physically unimposing, but there was something in his incredibly dark (almost black) brown eyes and his piercing stare that made him frightening.

"Um, well the exact figure I need is $28,750, if I could get that it would be massively appreciated." Kyle had worked out meticulously the amount he needed on top of his wages to tide him over for the next month or so. It was just enough time to let him figure something else out.

"Oh and you can absolutely trust me, I'm incredibly reliable." Kyle added, thinking he should probably make a case for himself. "You will definitely get the money back, with interest." The older man started laughing hysterically at that, coughing a little on the cigarette smoke.

"Kyle I know we'll get the money back. We always get the money back." He said, straightening his overly waxed hair with a little comb from his jacket pocket.

"I think we can help you out. We'll give you the money you asked for, all of it. You get a week off, then you start paying it back, $2,000 a week, for 20 weeks." He paused briefly to stub out the cigarette on a crystal ashtray on the desk, "you won't miss any repayments, you won't be late on repayments. Do you understand?" Kyle watched him as he paced slowly up and down the room, looking idly at the couple of paintings on the wall, like this was a conversation he'd had many times. Cartman had been quiet this entire time.

"Yes, of course, thank you." Kyle worked out quickly that this meant he was paying back forty big ones, and the interest rate was over a third - but then again if he could do better elsewhere he would have gone already. It was this or never get power back, start going properly hungry, lose his house...

"You don't come back here unless we tell you specifically. Write down your bank account details and we'll transfer it online to you, then repay by midnight on Sunday each week to this account." He slid a piece of paper over the desk to Kyle, sitting down again. Online banking was a pleasant surprise, he had imagined it would all be dodgy cash hand overs and making use of the money might be tricky, so this was ideal. He scribbled down his account number and sort code on a different sheet, and slid it back.

"Okay, so hand over your deposit and you can go." Grease-ball said. Kyle had decided to name him that in the absence of a real name (hardly clever, but the best he could do in the circumstances). Actually he had no idea about a deposit though...

"Err, I didn't know I needed one, what is it?" He desperately hoped this wouldn't ruin things at the last moment. He had put up with embarrassing himself in front of Eric Cartman, this gloomy office and the angry looking boss guy, so at least he deserved to get $28,750 out of it.

"We need something of personal or family value, to keep hold of until we get the money back. Just an extra safeguard. Did Eric not tell you?"

"I absolutely did sir, I remember it well. He must have forgotten or wasn't paying attention." Cartman interjected. That little shit, Kyle knew he hadn't told him.

"Well do you have anything on you, or something at home you can bring here by tomorrow? I hope you haven't wasted my time." Fuck, he had absolutely nothing. Not even at home, he just didn't own anything like that. The most precious belongings he had would all look way too stupid to give to them, even his most treasured possession of all which he kept in the box under his bed was totally worthless to people like them.

"I-I'm really sorry but I'm not sure I have anything like that. Unless you can take my watch, or my TV or something, but they're pretty cheap..." Kyle said, feeling his breathing getting quicker and a nervous, nauseous feeling grow inside of him. This had to happen, and judging by the look on Grease-ball's face it wasn't going to.

"I have an idea sir." Cartman said, before leaning in and muttering something into his boss's ear. Kyle had a feeling this wouldn't be good. Grease-ball whispered something back and Cartman left the room.

"It was good meeting you, Kyle." He said, standing up and walking towards the one window behind his desk. He just stared out and took no interest in Kyle's protests that he could be trusted even without a deposit.

Then out of nowhere Kyle felt two strong pairs of arms wrap round him and haul him down the stairs. He didn't put up a fight really, resigning himself to being thrown out onto the street. He felt his arm being twisted and his hand being pushed, palm-down, onto one of the old restaurant tables in the main room. Before he could figure out what was going on he felt a pulse of agonising pain, and saw the glint of a hammer that had just crushed the knuckle below his little finger. His resistance was pointless against what he could now tell was the bald man from earlier holding him down, and Cartman wielding the hammer. A second blow to the next knuckle followed, and Kyle actually heard the sound of bone cracking. The pain was so sharp and so intense it prevented any other thoughts from going through his mind. It was like - well it was like someone just broke two of his knuckles with a fucking hammer.

"Listen," Cartman said softly into his ear, leaning so close to Kyle's face he could feel the disgusting breath caress his skin, "instead of your deposit we've given you a taste of what will happen if you don't pay up in time." Kyle kept fighting back tears, he wouldn't stoop to that, but looking at the reddened, already swelling mess on his left hand was making him freak out.

"And Kahl," Cartman added with a wry smile, "I'll see you at the reunion." With that Kyle was bundled through the front door and hurled out onto the road, his hand still throbbing, a constant hot pain under the skin.

For a while Kyle just lay there. The air was clear and the stars were unusually visible, so he just drew lines between them, making the constellations he knew. The Plough, the Great Bear, Orion, the...Giraffe? There was a siren far off in the distance above the unending faint hum of traffic, and the cold concrete pressed against his back. Soon he would have to get up. Right now though, he just needed to lie here a little longer.

X

_Aaaahhhh I'm so so sorry it's this late! I've been really busy, plus this chapter was a nightmare to write, and I didn't want to screw it up. Hopefully I haven't, and hopefully I haven't left it so long you've all forgotten this story!_

_I own nothing from South Park, and as always much love to all readers and especially reviewers. _

_I will be quicker with the next chapter!_


	8. An Unfamiliar Feeling

The white cloth was coarse to his touch, his finger tracing the edges of the material as it curved around his hand. It was officially the most pain he had ever experienced, over throwing the haemorrhoids he'd had as a kid to take the top spot. The bandage was tight and a little lopsided, but it did the job. Two and a half hours of unrivalled agony it had taken to fit that thing. He had taken painkillers before starting, but the whole experience had been a flurry of tears and shouting, and now he could only hope that this botch job would prevent lasting damage. Proper medical treatment was clearly not an option.

"Kyle?" His boss' unmistakable voice snapped him out of his daydreaming, but he expertly pretended to be working within a split second; in a job like that you get used to being able to switch off and on in an instant. "Can I see you in my office please?"

Shit, shit, shit. What was wrong now, on his first day back? He had managed (pretty impressively) to get himself back from Denver on Sunday evening and bandage his hand up, only missing one shift at Shakey's but getting here on time Monday morning. He opened the door and accepted the offer of a seat from Token.

"Kyle, I'm sure you remember our conversation last week..." He began, taking a seat himself.

"Yes of course, as I said I'm deeply sorry about that Mr Black, it won't happen again." Kyle replied, starting to worry that maybe his suspension wasn't deemed harsh enough punishment.

"Don't worry, it's not about that side of it." Token smiled at him. "I've had another look at the numbers, and actually there was some pretty shoddy accounting going on here. There was an error on the finances which means our expenses are lower than previously thought; some old standing orders that expired years ago were still being recorded as an expense."

"Oh right, well that's good news." Kyle said, unsure of exactly how this affected him, but at least he wasn't being fired.

"Yes it is." Token looked down at some spread sheet in front of him, before circling a number and sliding it to Kyle. "I'm going to use some of the money to give you a pay rise, as you can see there."

Kyle stared at the number in front of him. His hourly wage had almost doubled. "Ah...Jesus...that's incredible, thank you, thank you Mr Black," Kyle said, finding an unfamiliar feeling washing over him; was it joy, or hope? Either way it made him almost want to cry, or engulf Token in a hug. "I don't know what to say."

"Don't, that's the point I was about to make." Token said, stroking the neatly cropped stubble that covered his jaw and neck. "This isn't strictly 'above board', shall we say. It's nothing illegal, but for the reasons I mentioned last time it must remain confidential, and I won't be documenting the expense. Needless to say you must keep this absolutely quiet."

"Oh absolutely, thanks again, this is a real life saver." Kyle said, before adding quietly, "Speaking outside of the office quickly, you're a great friend, Token."

Token gave him a heavy looking half-smile before responding, "This isn't charity Kyle, you deserve this. Actually you deserve better than this job altogether, I hope one day soon you get out of here."

"Thanks," Kyle said, smiling back before getting up and heading back to work, resisting the urge to start jumping up and down and fist pumping, or dancing around the office. This was the best thing that could have happened to him, this could change everything.

"Oh and Kyle, what happened to your hand?" Token asked just as Kyle pulled the door open.

"Ah this," he said holding his left hand up, "I shut it in my car door. It was pretty painful but it's only superficial I think."

"Okay, well take it easy, it looks a little swollen even from here, or that's a hell of a lot of bandage round it..."

"Probably a bit of both!" Kyle lied, his left hand looked half human and half hulk, it was grim.

Sitting back at his desk his mind had already begun working out the permutations of this raise. This put him close, really close, to being able to pay this loan off (most of which he'd already spent paying electricity and card bills the second it arrived in his account last night). It meant he only had to find a couple of hundred extra dollars a week to break even; for the first time it actually seemed achievable. The fear that had gripped him the night before was lifted; Cartman's intimidation seemed hollow, he was just a pawn in another man's game, and now Kyle could get the money together he had nothing to fear. He was going to be okay, after all.

"Good Morning Sir, have you considered changing your broadband provider?"

"Apologies, it wasn't our intention to disturb you."

"I can take you off our list if you-"

"I would appreciate it if you didn't swear at me sir."

X

The view from his roof was one Stan hadn't seen in a long time. In fact, the last time he had been up here must have been around Christmas time at least eight years ago. The four of them (the usual suspects) had climbed onto the roof, first onto the garage and then jumping across to the house. It was dangerous, especially in the snow, but how else would they have gotten such a perfect vantage point to pelt passers-by with snowballs? He'd been grounded for a weekend for that one. It wasn't winter now and the rooftops were bare, and to Stan that made the view a lot less interesting; the snow seemed to cover up the cracks of the town, with all its run-of-the-mill, tired looking buildings, and made it seem perfect. He realised that under his glove two of his fingertips were still not quite their normal color after being frozen, and yet there he was musing about his love of the cold weather. Suddenly it seemed a little ridiculous.

"Could you quit daydreaming Stanley and pass me those tiles?" He turned around to see his Dad waving a hammer in front of his face. "Hello?"

"Yeah, yeah, here you go, chill." He replied passing the pile of roof tiles across.

"So," Randy began, breaking the silence that Stan had been thoroughly enjoying. "You got yourself a New Yorker girlfriend yet?" As he spoke he placed a nail gently over one of the tiles and beginning to tap it in.

"Nope, not yet."

"Oh, let me guess, you've found a Jersey girl haven't you? I bet they're a bit freakier, if you know what I mean." Stan got a free wink and a nudge to the ribs with that comment, which actually almost unbalanced him for a second. The vision of plummeting off the roof to his death, with the last thing he heard being his Dad discussing the relative merits of New York or New Jersey girls in bed, was not the way he wanted to go.

"Jesus." He replied. "No I'm single right now. Work is pretty hectic actually."

"Well make sure you don't work your whole youth away son, if you don't find someone while you're young it only gets harder." That actually seemed like sound advice from Randy Marsh, if such a thing was possible. They probably had different ideas about who that 'someone' should be though. His dad envisioning a lingerie model or something, and he had the image of a redheaded Jewish boy engraved on the underside of his eyelids.

"Yeah, I won't." He said taking his turn to tack in new tiles around where he was sitting.

"I know I don't say this often son, but I'm proud of you." Randy said suddenly, after the pair had worked in silence for some time. "You've got a good job, you're turning into a great young man. One day you'll give your mother some great grandkids I'm sure." Stan just kept focused on the task in front of him. Pull back the hammer, hit the tack, pull back the hammer, hit the tack...

"She'd like that y'know. I just want you to get rich so you can buy me a speedboat." Stan gave Randy a small laugh for that; it sounded a lot more like him. A speedboat was a damn sight more likely than grandkids anyhow, though since he started giving a ton of his money straight to Token every week neither was looking likely. He'd be broke by the time he went back to New York at the rate it was going.

"Promise your old man that, Stanley. If you get rich, I get a speedboat." Randy held out his hand to seal the deal, "and not just any crappy thing, a Princess."

"Okay, as long as you don't make me help you with anymore DIY while I'm back. We're doing the roof but I'm not going near those drains again, not ever." Stan replied, grabbing his hand and giving it an overly firm shake, enjoying being able to create the same look of slight discomfort that he'd felt at Randy's vice like grip as a kid.

"Oh you're stronger than your old man now, I get it." Randy suddenly jerked his arm as he spoke, throwing Stan off balance and making him clutch onto his father for support. "You can't get the best of me just yet though kid."

Stan gave him evils as he moved back to his old sitting position. "Not funny dude, dangerous."

Stan didn't follow Randy off the roof after they'd finished, deciding instead to stay up there and watch the sunset. As much as he wanted to clear his head and just enjoy the moment, he couldn't push the thought of talking to Kyle out of his mind. He laid flat, his back feeling every contour of the newly replaced tiles pressing against it. Why was he going to do this? He was going to throw it all away, 23 years of friendship gone in an instant. The peaks of the mountains were washed in an orange glow now as the sun started to edge behind them, and although he was still lying up on the roof questioning his decision, he wasn't going to back away from it. The reason he was risking everything was because what he had now wasn't everything after all; he had kept fooling himself these last few years that all he needed was to be close to Kyle again to be happy, as a friend, but now when he was with him he felt worse not better. He couldn't spend the rest of his life standing one step away from what he knew was the only thing that could make him truly content. His whole life he had this uncontrollable urge to make Kyle laugh, smile, or just to make him feel safe; if there was a God, Stan was pretty sure he had made him specifically for that purpose, and that didn't bother him at all. He knew he was totally unremarkable in almost every way; he wasn't really smart, or outrageously funny, and though he could play sport and a little guitar he never had a special gift for either. Anyone summarising his looks would have to say he looked...normal, he wasn't particularly attractive (though he supposed he wouldn't call himself ugly) and there was nothing unique about his appearance. Kyle on the other hand was one of a kind, striking to look at and instantly unforgettable, with a delicate face but a fierce stare. The contrast of his pale skin against emerald eyes and brilliant red hair (not ginger or strawberry, his hair was bold and unashamedly red) was unique and completely captivating, for Stan at least. Kyle had fast and consistent logic, strong principles and a generous spirit; his personality was every bit as complex and beautiful as he looked.

Only a handful of people on the planet can stand out like that. In fact, very few are lucky enough to even be close to one of them, so Stan knew there was _one_ remarkable thing about him after all, and before it got so dark that he couldn't find his way off this god forsaken roof he was going to go and make sure he told that remarkable thing exactly how he felt.

X

_Not a lot of excitement in that chapter I know (apologies), but it was needed. As I'm sure you can tell things are all about to come to a head pretty shortly and that just seemed like the right place to end the chapter. Thanks everyone who has stayed with the story so far and I hope you bear with it a little longer!_


	9. Corny, But True

Kyle was fairly sure there was no greater sight in the world than the one waiting for him as he approached his house: Stan Marsh, sitting on the porch leaning back on his elbows, grinning at him like they hadn't seen each other in years. When Kyle used to come home late from school on a Friday (normally after tutoring someone to make a little extra money) Stan would always be waiting in that exact position. He never went inside because he didn't like the awkward conversations with Sheila, but now Kyle supposed he just didn't have a key, something which just didn't seem right. Eight-year-old Kyle (hell, even fifteen-year-old Kyle) would have thought Stan would always have a key to Kyle's place, not least because it would be Stan's place too. Even so, he was glad it let him have that nostalgic moment of seeing his best friend sitting there waiting for him to arrive, and he had no control over the stupid grin he could feel spreading over his face.

"Hey!" Stan half-shouted, pulling him into a warm hug. Kyle pulled away after a couple of moments, worried he had lingered a little too long. "How was work?"

"Actually…" Kyle started, leaving an accidental dramatic pause as he rummaged around in his pocket for the front door keys. "It was pretty damn good!"

"Wait, what happened to your hand?" He was looking at Kyle with a suddenly serious expression as he spoke, frowning and gently holding the hand up to inspect it.

"Oh, I caught it in the door, it's not too bad…"

"It looks bad to me, and you haven't even gone to the hospital, this bandage is coming loose." They shuffled inside and sat down together on the couch. "You need to get that looked at, Kyle."

He didn't dignify that with a response, since Stan could guess he had been winging it as far as medical insurance was concerned, and he couldn't afford to see a doctor.

"At least let me look at it then, I did a first aid course for some stupid 'team building' week at work. C'mere." Stan held out his hand, waiting for a response. He relented, placing his swollen fist into the outstretched palm and watching silently as Stan began to unravel the crude binding.

"Shit, be careful – ah." Kyle winced, though Stan was already being extremely gentle, his strong hands moving slowly and applying only the softest touches. It reminded Kyle of all the injured animals Stan used to nurse back to health when they were kids.

"So what happened at work then?" Stan was looking at him so fucking expectantly, like he'd been furiously hoping for good news even more than Kyle had.

"Let me get you a drink first, what do you want? I don't have anything exciting, but I can get you water, or juice-" Kyle moved to get up but was stopped by a hand on his shoulder.

"I brought some beers actually," Stan interrupted, holding up a carrier bag with some bottles inside, "if you're interested?"

Kyle just nodded, and uttered a small 'thanks'. It took a lot of self-restraint for him to accept that without getting bitter or angry about being given charity treatment. He had decided to let go of the little things, and pick his battles more carefully. A beer just wasn't worth fighting over.

"So what's the news?" It seemed Stan had picked up on his somewhat annoyed vibe, but was maybe expecting it, since it didn't seem to dampen his own spirits. He pulled his coat off, draping it over the back of the couch before sitting back down.

"I got a big raise!" Kyle replied, finding that just remembering it was enough to lift his spirits. "Token said he'd made a mistake and he'd found more money in the accounts."

"That's insane!" Stan said, leaping at him and almost suffocating him with another embrace. "Does that mean you're out of the woods, y'know, money-wise?"

"I – not quite!" Kyle managed to splutter, which prompted Stan to release him from the vice-like grip. "It makes a huge difference though…"

"Congrats anyway man, you really deserve it." Stan opened his bottle using his keys, an old trick he'd learnt when they were about sixteen, then did the same with Kyle's. They chatted idly for a while, about the ever more rapidly approaching reunion and which part they dreaded most, which was apparently seeing 'that asshole Craig' for Stan, and Kyle said he was least looking forward to seeing the undoubtedly uber successful Testaburger rubbing everyone's nose in whatever fantastic job she had.

"Seriously dude?" Stan asked, "not Cartman?"

"Oh" Kyle replied, realising that his choice (for obvious reasons) not to mention Cartman probably seemed bizarre to Stan. "Well I kind of assumed he wouldn't be coming I guess…"

"He does live in Denver apparently." Stan said softly, looking up from his beer to make eye contact with Kyle. "But don't worry about it, we won't let him ruin the party."

"Luckily he can't ruin something that's going to be shit to begin with." Kyle laughed, though he knew full well that Cartman could take shit to a whole new level.

"Holy fuck!" Stan suddenly exclaimed, and Kyle followed his line of vision down to his hand, now completely exposed. It was quite a shocking site, inflamed more than any injury Kyle had ever seen, bulbous and angry looking. "How hard did you slam that door?" Stan asked, staring at him so intently and with such sadness that it was impossible to look away.

"Door?" Kyle wondered, his mind a little clouded by how nice it felt to have Stan's warm hand on his, which seemed to be a more powerful pain killer than anything he'd tried so far. "Oh, shit, yeah. Pretty hard I guess." He'd caught his mistake, but judging from Stan's expression maybe a split-second too late.

"Jesus, it looks like it's been run over by a fucking truck or something…" Stan was whispering now for some reason, his thumb gently stroking Kyle's hand as he held it.

"You had bad injuries like this, playing football. I'm okay." He replied, genuinely wanting to ease the worry that was etched across Stan's face.

"That's different." Stan asserted, though Kyle wasn't sure how it could be. He held his breath as Stan started wrapping his hand again, doing it neatly, almost professionally. "Tell me if it hurts too much. It needs to be tighter than you had it though."

"Fuck" Kyle groaned, a sharp pain suddenly shooting through his knuckles. "Keep going."

"I'm so sorry." Stan kept saying, until finally it was finished and Kyle had just managed to keep himself from crying, though his eyes were moist. He watched as Stan slowly lifted up his hand and kissed the bandage, sending his heart into overdrive suddenly. "It will heal faster like this. You'll be alright." He whispered.

"Thanks." He replied, suddenly noticing how close their faces were, Stan's breath smelling of spearmint, though not completely overpowering the hint of Doritos underneath. Stan reached up and cupped his cheek before pressing their lips together, and the cliché of time standing still couldn't have been further from the truth, since it was over before he could react. He felt himself lean forward and reconnect them, not sure if he'd even made a conscious decision to do so, and this time he made sure to take in every second s it. Stan's tongue probed at his lips and he parted them slightly, and he noticed that his good hand had found its way to Stan's hair, tugging on it gently. He tasted something salty, realising that now he was crying, an isolated tear having found its way to his mouth. Kyle wasn't sure if it had lasted a few seconds or a few minutes, but he felt like he was floating, the only thing tying him to reality was the discomfort of his erection straining against his pants.

"Shit, what the fuck!" Kyle shouted, regaining his senses as soon as physical contact was broken. "Why the fuck did you let me do that? Jesus. Fuck!"

"No, Kyle you don't understand-"

"No you don't understand Stan! I'm trying to get over this, and I know you know how I feel but whether you pity me or whatever it is, this will only ruin our friendship! I just-"

"Shut the fuck up!" Stan shouted, and instantly Kyle stopped; Stan never spoke to him like that, ever. "Sorry, just I need you to let me speak, just listen. Can you do that?" Stan seemed to take his silence as the response he wanted and carried on, "Look, I know that summer, before college, you didn't want what I did. That's okay, maybe you weren't ready, or you're still not ready, but some part of my brain keeps telling me that deep down you feel the same way I do. I can't take another minute of wondering 'what if?' I need to at least give it a shot."

"What do you mean, I didn't want what you wanted? What are you talking about?" Kyle was on the back foot suddenly, when he thought he could get the situation under control; he could hear the blood rushing through his ears, each pulse growing louder.

"I kissed you. I told you how I felt! You tried not to hurt my feelings by saying you felt the same but we couldn't because of college, and I-"

"You were drunk!" Kyle shouted, "I loved you and you were wasted and experimenting, that kiss fucking haunts me still! I was just thinking out loud, about college and what would happen, and you were the one who said we should pretend it never happened!" He couldn't really explain why they were both angry, it just seemed appropriate.

"I thought you were trying to give me a way out…" Stan muttered quietly, his face etched with confusion and fear. "I thought you were trying not to hurt my feelings…"

"You're straight, you've always been straight!" Kyle could feel himself hyperventilating and shut his eyes, trying to take long, deep breaths instead of shallow, panicked ones.

"You loved me." Stan said, and it occurred to Kyle that they weren't really part of the same conversation any more, but were just speaking to themselves. "You don't love me anymore, then."

"You let me think I had a chance with you!" He screamed, his ears too full of noise to process anything. "Being the star quarterback with gorgeous girlfriends wasn't enough for you was it? You had to torment your nerdy friend by letting him have hope! As much as I tried I couldn't stamp out that stupid, naïve hope…"

"Have you even been listening?" Stan said, shaking him by the shoulder until he was forced to look him the eye. "How could you say that about me? That I would do that to you?"

"I'm not angry, Stan. I'm sorry for shouting. It's just you aren't helping me by giving me what you think I want. I know you care, but you're not lifting my spirits with a little kiss. It's easy for you, like a little gift that you know I want so badly, but it only torments me, it's a taste of something I can't have. Please just let me move on."

"For a genius you're a fucking idiot sometimes." Stan was laughing now, and Kyle pushed down the feeling of anger and embarrassment that started climbing from his chest. "I wasn't sure I'd be able to…well, express myself…and clearly I haven't, so I brought something I want you to read." Kyle watched as Stan rummaged around in his back pocket before producing a crumpled sheet of ancient looking paper, holding it out towards him.

"What is it?" He asked, unfolding the sheet and beginning to read. The writing was scratchy and wavered from the lines, but Kyle learnt long ago how to deal with Stan's awful handwriting, proof reading his essays and even sometimes forging work for him if it was urgent. He could probably even place Stan's age by just the way the letters were formed, if he looked for long enough.

_My hero is Kyle Broflovski. __I look up to Kyle because he's clever, and he stands up to people when their greedy or selfish, and he always does what's right._

Kyle stopped briefly, he didn't remember this at all, though judging from the use of 'their' instead of 'they're' that hadn't been corrected he was pretty sure he'd never seen it before.

_Sometimes I feel really fed up, and everything seems really pointless so I just want to give up, but I know Kyle wouldn't do that. I know I annoy him when I can't be happy, and he doesn't want to be friends with me anymore, but Kyle Broflovski will always be my best friend, even if I'm not his._

"I was going to hand it in, for that English assignment in fourth grade, but I couldn't go through with it. I just handed in some crap about John Elway…" Stan was looking down as he spoke, but didn't seem on edge anymore. "Back then I just thought you were the best friend anyone could have, but it was more than that. I've always loved you, Kyle."

Before he'd had a chance to process any of what had just happened he was on top of Stan, their lips moving together frantically; it was like his body was finally fed up of his neurotic worrying and had taken over proceedings, declaring in the classic way to whoever was in charge, 'Not anymore you're not!' He could feel Stan's hips bucking upwards against his, and was elated to feel Stan was hard as well, and to think that he had done that.

"You're so fucking corny." Kyle muttered, as they broke apart for a second.

"Fuck you, it worked didn't it?" Stan replied, laughing now as well.

"Dude, strolling in and dropping your pants would have worked. Probably faster, too." He grinned down at Stan, who flipped him over in retaliation, pinning his arms above his head and attacking his ears, kissing and licking what he somehow knew to be one of Kyle's most sensitive spots. It elicited a moan from Kyle, who hated himself for it when he saw the smirk on Stan's face.

He felt Stan's hand reach down and slide beneath the waistband of his black work trousers, wrapping around Kyle's shaft.

"Fuck." He muttered, trying to work Stan's belt open to try to return the favour, but struggling against the tight confines of the narrow couch, and with so much of his brain side-tracked by screaming 'it's really happening!' over and over in his head.

Stan reached down to help, having to remove his hand from Kyle's cock as the other was needed to keep himself propped up. Kyle was glad though, because he was seconds away from blowing his load after just a few strokes. "I forgot you're one handed at the moment." Stan said, removing the belt and returning to his work.

"Holy shit dude." Stan was big, quite a bit bigger than he was anyway, but it felt natural when he wrapped his hand around it, like finally slotting in the last piece of a jigsaw puzzle. It didn't take much more for Kyle to lose it, desperately bucking up into Stan as he shouted obscenities and spilled onto Stan's hand and into his underwear. Stan wasn't too far behind, and he sank down next to Kyle once he was finished, both panting heavily and a little overwhelmed.

"I think it's all endorphins up here now." Kyle said, pointing to his head. "There's no actual brain left."

"Only you would say something like that after being jerked off." Stan laughed. "But I know what you mean."

"For every corny comment you make I can say something nerdy. It's weird, but it works."

In all of his little fantasies about moments like those Kyle had been annoyed, angry that he'd wanted Stan to be the one in control, that he'd even wanted Stan to be bigger than him; it was as if the successful job and his total ownership of Kyle's heart wasn't enough, he had to be some kind of hung sex god as well.

"We didn't last long did we?" Stan joked, and when Kyle looked at him all of that was suddenly blown out of the water; he'd made it some kind of weird competition in his head, but it had never been like that, not to Stan anyway.

"We lasted twenty-three years. That's pretty damn good."

X

_Sorry it was late! I'm useless, I know…_


End file.
